


Water From The Moon

by 88dragons



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Everything Else I Forgot to Mention, Falling In Love, Flirting, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am going to change a few things around for my benefit, I get most of my chapter names from songs, M/M, Maybe a little OOC, Mentions of Smaug, Oral Sex, Pretty things, Slow Build, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom, What Was I Thinking?, and dwarves, au-ish, but then again, shiny things, that is what fanfic is for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 22,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88dragons/pseuds/88dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barduil.  Curse BotFA and all the gifs I have stored in a folder on my desktop.  Damn!  Damn!   Double Damn!  I don't need to be starting another story, but damn those two for being so...perfect for each other!</p>
<p>Anyway, story of Thranduil and Bard, first meetings.  And there is, HORRAH, Master of Laketown bashing, and Alfrid gets his just rewards also.  Neither of them will enjoy pissing off the elf king.  </p>
<p>Will go into the Battle of Five Armies, eventually.   And it will be a happy fic, mostly.  No character death or anything like that.  I have had this idea dancing around in my head for a few days now, playing conversations in my mind, trying to get these characters  down.  </p>
<p>This first chapter is short, but it is just to see if I should write the rest of this or not.  LET ME KNOW!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curfews and Elves

It started out as a typical day. Deliver the barrels of wine to the elves. Come back. That was all he had to do and all he ever did. Anything else would have garnered the Master’s ire, and Bard wasn’t in the mood for an idiotic lecture from that brainless twit. Truth be told, he never was.

He guided the boat to the small dock where the elves would meet him and take his cargo. No words were ever spoken. Most of the time, they didn’t even look at him. He didn’t mind if they pretended he didn’t exist, if in their own minds the wine barrels were spirited to them by twinkling little fairies who giggled and threw fairy dust to and fro, just as long as he got paid and didn’t have any trouble getting back home before the Master’s strict curfew.

When he pulled the barge up to the dock, he was surprised when the elves that were waiting for him made no move to unload the barrels. They stood back a good ten feet from the dock, all in a line, ramrod straight. Bard looked around, even back to the area behind him to where the elves were facing, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He was unsure as to what to do. If he should say something, call out, get their attention, or what.

Then out of the forest came another elf. This one was different from the others, and one Bard had never seen before. His hair was pale gold, his eyes a bright blue. The elves that were lined up parted for him, telling the bargeman that this new elf was someone important, and he stood a little straighter, preparing himself for heaven’s knew what. 

The new elf made his way down the dock until he was practically climbing over the side. He looked down his nose at Bard, his mouth turning up so slightly on one side, as if he was trying not to sneer. Bard held his tongue, keeping his features straight. Damned arrogant…

“The King wishes to speak with you,” the elf stated, his voice tight and monotone. 

“The King?” Bard stated in shock. “Why?”

The elf glared at him, his mouth pursing in anger. How dare a human talk to him and how dare that same human dare question him.

“He will see you _now_.”

Bard sighed. There went his hopes of getting home before curfew.


	2. Just Wrap Me Up In Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not beta'd. My beta lives half a world away from me and is very busy, so all mistakes are all mine. Sorry if there are any.

Thoughts were racing through Bard’s mind as he was led through the forest. The elf who had spoken to him led the way, while some of the others followed behind. Most had stayed back to guard the barge (wine).

Bard was desperately trying to think of what he could have done to be summoned before the Elf King. He brought the wine, took away the empty barrels when they came down the river. He never drank any or even opened the barrels. He never spoke to any of the elves. He never even stepped off the barge. So why was he being forced through the forest to the Elf King’s halls?

As they walked, the forest was dark around them, but Bard didn’t have to see himself to know that he was not fit to stand before a king. His skin was dirty and tanned by the sun. His clothing was worn and had been patched so many times over the years. He was amazed it had not rotted off of him and fallen to pieces. Saying he was self-conscious was an understatement and it got worse the farther he was led.

Soon the forest opened up and the elf led him to a long span of bridge that was suspended over running water, and a large amount of it by the sound. Over the bridge was a pillar framed set of doors. Going over the bridge, Bard looked down, and wished he hadn’t. There weren’t any railings and even in the dark, he could tell it was a long way down.

They entered the Hall in silence, one so quiet it was nearly deafening. Bard could hear his heart beating in his ears. Every scuff of his worn boots against the ground seemed loud, making him wince and take extra care in picking up his feet.

Bard turned and noticed that the elves following them were gone. Over another arching bridge, spanning over more water. The bargeman gazed around in wonder. Tall trees, cascading waterfalls, lights everywhere. It all seemed otherworldly, as if he were bewitched and his mind was convinced that it was some place not of his world, the one he knew and lived in, and in a way he guessed that he was. It was all very much real, but there was still an air of _unrealness_ that he could not shake.

He knew the tales. The ones about the Elf King and the power he wielded, and of sorcery. It was said that he could summon any woodland creature to do his bidding, that he could make perfect blue skies open up with torrential rain, that he could cause the very ground to shake and the trees to move and the water of the river to flow backwards.

Bard had always doubted any of those things were true, he had never seen or heard of anyone else actually seeing them happen, but as he gazed about, feeling the energy of the place, he thought that maybe those tales weren’t all that farfetched as they had once seemed.

Bard was so busy admiring all around him that he nearly ran into his elf guide who had stopped and was glaring at him again. The elf shook his head slightly in annoyance before they continued on, finally coming around a very large tree, to see a large throne, adorned with huge antlers, a short distance away.

“The does not like to be kept waiting,” the elf hissed over his shoulder. Bard sighed and picked up his pace, only glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the splendor around him.

“The bargeman, as you requested, my king,” the elf stated as soon as they hit the platform leading to the throne. Bard focused his attention to the dais with the antlered throne and at the elf that sat there. 

The Elf King was just as frightening has the rumors said he was and just as majestic and awe-inspiring, and, dare Bard admit, beautiful. He had never in his life seen another man who he had considered beautiful, who had made him stop and take a moment to admire, and certainly not one who made his mouth go dry and his eyes widen in disbelief at the extent of said beauty, for no man could be this beautiful, this perfect. Bard stood stock still as the elf next to him bowed low. Thinking such thoughts about another man, a mere mortal man, was wrong, wasn’t it, even if it was possible for a man to match the magnificence that the bargeman now looked upon. But this was an elf. So thinking those thoughts didn’t really count, right?

The elf next to him cleared his throat in warning, and Bard was snapped partially out of the spell that held him, just enough to know that he should be bowing. He should most definitely be bowing to the ethereal creature before him. 

Still a little dumbstruck, Bard did more than bow: he dropped down to one knee, bowing his head down low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a big thank you to the lovely people who told me to continue this fic. I appreciate it.
> 
> This chapter kinda took on a life of its own, and wrote itself, and not the way I had planned for it to go. I feel I might have rushed Bard's trek through Thranduil's halls a bit, but he made it there in one piece.
> 
> I cannot believe the amount of love I have for this pairing. It is almost ridiculous. I look everyday for new fics and gifs and whatever else I can find. Does anyone know where I can find wallpapers of this pairing? 
> 
> The chapter title is from "STAY" by Shakespear's Sister. It is found here, if you are interested: http://www.songlyrics.com/shakespear-s-sister/stay-lyrics/


	3. I Sense Your Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time last night trying to figure out what was bothering me about the last chapter, and I couldn't figure it out. I almost deleted the story all together, but then I wrote this chapter and at first, I didn't like it either, but it got better for me toward the end. And then I came up with an explanation for why Bard is acting the way he is, the extreme way he is acting, and now it makes sense to me. I will reveal that in the next chapter or so.

“You are dismissed, _lonneg_ ,” The elven king said, and the elf next to Bard turned and left without a sound. Bard stayed where he was, unsure of what to do or what was about to happen to him. He kept his eyes on the floor, on the spot directly in front of his bent knee, and tried to take a deep breath. But he could not, just as he couldn’t seem to swallow the lump that was in his throat. His mouth was still too dry. “You may stand, bargeman,” the king ordered and Bard almost scoffed audibly. That was easy for him to say.

But, Bard managed to find his feet, though he kept his head bowed still. He was trying to convince himself that it was out of respect, and maybe a little bit of fear, but he knew deep down that it was because he was afraid to look upon the Elf King once again. The spell had not yet ebbed, but he was sure he would either anger or insult the majestic elf in some way, shape, or form. Staring was never a good thing to do, and it was rude; at least that is what his mother used to tell him when he was a child. It was especially offensive if you did it with your jaw slacked open like a complete idiot.

Bard forced himself to swallow, causing his throat to sting in discomfort, and then he tried several times to make himself talk, but that wasn’t working out so well. Finally, after what seemed like an absurd amount of time, he was able to form words and amazingly sensible words, too.

“To be summoned to your fair halls is more than a man such as I could ever deserve, and I beg that you forgive me, my king, for whatever it is I have done to offend you.”

“Offend me? Why do you think that you have offended me in some way, bargeman?”

Bard’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then he hesitantly lifted his eyes. And once again, he was enthralled. The Elf King sat upon his throne, wrapped in silver, his moonbeam hair falling about his shoulders, the crown of spring’s first blossoms on his head, his features as pale as the snow that still clung to the ground and as perfect as if carved from the purest marble by the hands of the gods themselves, and his eyes, the blue of ice, both cold and on fire at the same time. 

Then the Elf King stood up, and his movements were beyond any definition of the word ‘grace’ Bard knew or could fathom. Watching him descend the stairs was like watching water flow, shafts of moonlight streaming down from heaven, and the wind gently blow ripples across the lake, but even beyond that, but Bard had no words, no thoughts that his mind could wrap around to describe what he was seeing.

“I did not bring you here on an affront, Man of Laketown,” the Elf King was saying as he descended from his throne, his feet finally coming to the same level of ground that Bard stood on, and Bard couldn’t help but feel that it was something so wrong for the Elven King to walk the same ground as he. “So, tell me, what are you called?”

“Bard, my king.” 

“Bard,” the Elf King repeated, but it sounded so much better when he said it. “I have had very little dealings with the one who considers himself the _Master of Laketown_. Is an honorable man?”

“No,” Bard began, deciding to speak the truth of it. “He is a petty, selfish, sniveling excuse for a man. He charges taxes on everything and even charges a tax for reentering the town. He has his men enforce a curfew, and the penalty is confiscation of all goods, even food, or a night in the jail. More-often-than-not, both.”

“And why is it that you are not Master of Laketown? Are you not the descendant of Girion?”

Bard shook his head, averting his eyes once again. “Girion failed Dale. He was not able to stop the dragon when it attacked.”

“And this is held against you? The mistake made by a man nearly two centuries ago?” 

Bard nodded. “It is how it should be.” He felt an ebbing away, as if a mist was lifting slowly from about him.

The Elf King approached closer, stopping when he was only a few feet away. Bard could feel the elf’s eyes on him, studying him, stripping away layers, and looking deep down within. It was unnerving to say the least, but apparently, he held up under the scrutiny because the elf hummed encouragingly, and then began a slow trek walking around Bard, stopping just off to his left side.

“Do you have a family, Bard?” 

The question was so off track from what they had been discussing, that Bard had to pause for a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Aye. A son and two daughters.”

“And their mother?” An innocent enough question, but it still made Bard flinch. 

“She passed last spring.” He answered in a soft voice.

The Elf King was silent for a moment, and Bard could swear the atmosphere around them changed, taking on a more melancholy air. “My apologies and my condolences.” The words were sincere, and Bard felt his throat constrict. It still stung and showed no signs of lessening. “I know…of the pain you feel.” The bargeman glanced back up at the elf; saw the flicker of sadness that passed over his features, the shadow of memory in his eyes. The Elf King turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Bard’s. “It must be difficult for you, to raise two children, under the incompetent leadership of the Master?”

“Aye, but my children’s health and happiness are worth what I endure.” 

The corner of the Elf King’s mouth turned up into a small smile. “You are a good man, Bard of Laketown, and more honorable than you are given credit for. From now on, you work for me, not the Master of Laketown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading!
> 
> The title is from "Lay Your Hands On Me" by Thompson Twins. I am aging myself, aren't I? Here is the song if anyone cares:  
> http://www.metrolyrics.com/lay-your-hands-on-me-lyrics-thompson-twins.html


	4. Make Me Believe What Tomorrow Can Bring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was watching BotFAs once again, I couldn't help but think what a good little puppy Bard is. So obedient. Takes to his leash very well.
> 
> I am several chapters in and still going. I wrote until 4 this morning. These two are taking over my life.
> 
> Enjoy!

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What?” Bard wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.

“To be precise, everyone in Laketown serves me, including the Master. Laketown is on my land and falls under my crown. This man who has deemed himself ‘master’ has done so without my consent, is taxing _my_ subjects and enforcing laws I did not decree.” He stepped in front of Bard once again. “And while it may seem that I have been derelict in my duties as your king, that is not so. My elves guard Laketown, though you do not see them. They protect the people from harm, and my power keeps the lake calm and full of food. Though it has not been apparent, I have kept a protective vigil over your town and its people since the dragon came.”

“So, I work directly for you now?” 

“Yes. You answer to me, not the Master.” The Elf King turned on his heel. The air the motion stirred brought to Bard the scent of what he could only describe as the forest. It was a heady scent and he wondered if that was truly what the skin of the great king of the elves smelled like. He suddenly wanted to find out, more than anything, but his common sense told him that would never happen and if he didn’t get those thoughts out of his mind and stop acting a fool, he would spend the rest of his days in the Elf King’s dungeon.

“And what are my duties, my king,” Bard said, forcing his mind to stay on a proper path. 

“You will continue to bring the barrels of wine and take the empty ones away, as you have been, but I will see to it that you are paid for your services directly and what I pay you is not subject to any taxes.” The elf began to ascend once again to his throne. Head held high, hands clasped behind his back as he did so. “As for the other services I may require in the future –“ He glanced at the bargeman out of the corner of his eye briefly “– I will inform you when it is necessary.”

Bard bowed low once again, only this time he didn’t fall to his knee as he had before. “I am yours to command, my king,” he stated, and honestly meant it without hesitation.

The Elf King’s mouth turned up into a slight smile once again as he took his seat on the throne, crossing one leg over the other. “Such loyalty. I admit I am surprised. In my interactions in the past with Men, they proved to be stubborn and reluctant to pledge themselves so easily, especially to an elf.”

“I like to think of myself as less of a fool than other Men, though I do not claim any wisdom above my own standing,” Bard returned, smiling as well. “I would also much rather attend to one far more worthy than the slithering lout I have been forced to contend with, as have all of the people of Laketown.” 

The Elf King dipped his head slightly, the smile still clinging to his mouth. “I promise that I am far more worthy. And much more… _appreciative_.”

Bard bowed once more, his mind settling on a very curious line of thought. He admitted he did not know the way of elves – how their minds worked, how they saw things, amongst others. He, as he imagined most humans were, curious, but he doubted he would ever be given the opportunity to learn more than the very little he already did know.

But there was this curious line of thought. It was one he knew he should not be even remotely thinking about perusing, but it persisted nonetheless. He was not learned in the way of elves, but he was in other things, or thought he was, though it had been awhile. He could almost believe that the elf was, dare he say, _flirting_ with him, albeit subtlety. He could be wrong; this could be just the way elves were, but given how the ones he dealt with at the dock treated him, that was not very likely.

Not that Bard was complaining. Certainly not. And he doubted that he would be invited back here again. Surely, the king would have any messages delivered to him via a scout and his payment likely given to him at the dock, so really there wasn’t any need for Bard to be in the Elf King’s presence again.

An elf appeared out of nowhere beside Bard. “See to his safety as he returns to his vessel.” He motioned with his hand, and without another word, Bard was escorted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and leaving Kudos and Comments. They mean a lot to me.


	5. You Left Your Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bard gets a little bit sassy in this chapter. He will get more so in the future.

Bard made it back to the docks without incident and when he boarded his barge, empty wine barrels already inside, he glanced up to find the elf that had accompanied him nod his head. Bard returned the gesture as he guided the barge away from the dock. As he navigated the river, he would look back to see the elf still standing there, watching him, until Bard was too far away to see him.

It was just him and the empty barrels. And his thoughts. Oh, his thoughts. They tormented him, in more ways than one. 

The King of Mirkwood was a mystery, all magical and wondrous. Bard couldn’t get that smile, as slight as it had been, and those eyes, out of his mind. He went over and over again every movement, wanting to sear them into his memory. His mortal mind could not comprehend how another creature could move so. Nor could his mind come to terms with the exquisiteness, the flawlessness that he had had the privilege to gaze upon. It almost seemed as if it had all been a dream. The closer he got to Laketown and the farther he got away from the Great Greenwood and its king, the more it seemed as if none of it had been real. He had fallen asleep, dreamed the whole thing, and woken back up on his barge, some part of his mind trying to convince itself it all hadn’t been real.

But he knew he had really seen and spoken to the Elf King, but his mortal mind was having trouble grasping that knowledge, unbelieving that he had been deemed so worthy. Bard took in a deep breath, one of a lake teeming with fish, but he only smelled the scent of the forest. He let the breath out slowly, his mind still muddled. 

His children were waiting for him. He should put his thoughts of the Elf King aside and focus on that, for he still had to get to them, and it was after curfew.

Hadn't the Elf King said he would help him with that?

But yet Bard held no proof that he had spoken to the Elf King, or that he now worked for him or anything that would keep him from being thrown into the Master’s jail for the rest of the night. He hated that thought; for it would mean his children would be at home alone for the rest of the night or whenever he happened to be released from his cell. As much as the Master despised him, it wouldn't surprise Bard is he was left in there to rot.

The gate come into view, torches lit to guide him to it. He could see the Guard Captain standing there, and he cringed when he also saw Alfrid, the Master’s henchmen, waiting also.

“You are late, Bard,” Alfrid stated the obvious in his annoying voice. “ _Very late_.”

“Thank you, Alfrid. I wasn't sure so I am glad you are here to tell me. So nice of you.” Is Bard’s sarcasm got any thicker, the Guard Captain could cut it with his sword.

Alfrid sneered, regarding Bard with disgust. “You have always been more trouble than you are worth. The Master is tired of dealing with your insubordination. You are to be reprimanded in the custody of the guard and – “

“No, he is not.”

All eyes turned to the sound of the voice and out of the darkness stepped the elf that had taken Bard to meet the Elf King earlier. He glared at Alfrid with condemnation. 

“Who are you and what gives you the right to come here and give orders, elf?” Alfrid snapped, and Bard scoffed at the idiocy of the wretched man.

The elf smiled, one lacking mirth. “This man is under the employ of the King of the Great Greenwood. The King has claim over this land and the lake, and thus entitlement over the town and its people.” The elf moved closer until he was only mere inches from Alfrid. “And I am the King’s son.”

Bard cursed himself inwardly for not seeing it earlier, but he also had to chuckle at the look on Alfrid's face. Alfrid swallowed hard, leaning back, stuttering like a fool.

“A thousand apologies, my prince.” He took a few bumbling steps back, nearly backing into the Guard Captain who stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide as saucers.

The elf turned his attention to Bard who was still standing on his barge. “Greetings, bargeman. I am Legolas.” He gave a nod of his head, to which Bard bowed in acknowledgement. Legolas then turned back to Alfrid. “You will allow this man to come and go without interruption. If you do not, then the King will take personal insult, and thus the penalty will be severe. You will pass this onto your master. And make sure he understands that we are watching.” His voice dropped down to a menacing whisper. “The King will know if you dare defy him.”

Alfrid nodded vigorously, the color completely drained from his face. He turned, shoved the Guard Captain out of the way, and took off running.

“Raise the gate!” The Guard Captain shouted and much to Bard’s surprise, Legolas jumped on-board his barge. 

“There is more that I must discuss with you,” was all the explanation the elf gave as Bard steered the barge through the opened gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much appreciation to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and comments. Thank you so much!
> 
> The song the chapter title is from is "Still in the Dark" by Aranda. Here: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/aranda/stillinthedark.html


	6. Take Me Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not only messing with the timeline here, I am messing with geography. Since I no longer have my Atlas of Middle Earth, I am going to use a little bit of the layout from LEGO Hobbit. I know, sounds silly, but it will make some things easier.
> 
> And if someone could please tell me how old Bard's children are in the movies. I am horrible at guessing ages, even worse when it comes to children's ages.
> 
> Thank you!

With expert ease, Bard steered his barge into its appointed a lot along the docks of Laketown. He jumped over the side to tie it up. The elf had sat calmly while the empty barrels had been unloaded, and had remained so as Bard traversed the water about Laketown.

“I meant what I told the other Man,” Legolas stated, suddenly standing on the dock. Bard had not seen him move. “My father does have eyes on you and those you hold dear. If this _master_ is as foolish of a man as you say, let us hope is not foolish enough to cross the King.” Legolas then pulled free a pouch from his belt and handed it to Bard. “The payment for your service.”

Bard did not want to risk any insult by opening the pouch and counting the coins he heard tinkling inside, so he shoved it into the pocket of his coat instead. Legolas nodded to him again.

“Your father – the King does me a great service by giving so much attention to my welfare.” Bard sighed, shaking his head. “Though I do not know why he has bothered with a lowly Man such as myself.”

One of the elf’s elegant eyebrows cocked, and his head tilted to one side. “I must admit, that is a question I have been asking myself. Before now, he has been content to let this town go about on its own without any influence from him. But for some reason, he wanted to meet you today.” Legolas shook his head, his gaze turning back to the direction of the wood. “He sees things others cannot. I can only speculate as to what he sees in you, but I know not what it could be.” He turned his eyes back to Bard, the same strange eyes as his father. “We will be watching and if the King requires anything more of you, you will be informed. Good night, Bard of Laketown.” As silent as the night, the elf prince made his way along the walkway and disappeared quickly.

____________________________________________________________

Bard had never been a man who took orders willingly. To say that he had a problem with authority was an understatement. That was why he had never made it in the town’s guard. He refused to follow orders blindly, and most certainly never made much of an attempt to follow whatever the Master told him. In fact, he went out of his way to be insubordinate at every available opportunity. He was just his nature, after all.

So, given his history with authority figures, he had to wonder why he had bent so easily to the Elf King’s will. He had subjected himself immediately, without putting up any sort of fight at all. He hadn’t even considered not doing so, and the thought of following the Elf King’s orders did not even make him flinch in regret. Strange, he thought, as he made his way through the town, to his home where his children waited.

Once he was home, he found that his children were wide awake and waiting for him. 

“Is it true?” Bain, his only son, began. “Is it true you met with the Elf King?”

“And that you work for _him_?” Sigrid, his eldest, with too much wisdom for few years. She had taken on the role of her dearly departed mother, cleaning, cooking, and taking care of her two younger siblings. She also had her moments of scolding, which on rare occasion was not only for her younger brother and sister, but their father as well, though never in a disrespectful manner.

“Aye, aye,” Bard answered his children, hugging each one in turn. “And as exciting as it all is, it ‘tis late and can be saved for the morning.”

All three children groaned, but the hour _was_ late. He kissed each one good night on the forehead before they retired, dragging their feet the entire way. Bard sighed, setting his bow and arrows aside before sitting down, rubbing his eyes as he did. He wasn’t so much tired as he was settled, in a way. Much more relaxed than he should have been, given the circumstances. He was not afraid of some kind of retaliation from the Master. The bastard was probably too busy cowering somewhere in that large house of his, paranoid that the Elf King was having his every move watched. He had to know by now. Alfrid would not have spared a second and telling all that had transpired.

He patted his pocket and then brought out the bag of gold coins. He shook it vigorously, hearing the coins inside. His children had asked if he worked for the Elf King, and that was true, he did. But he also had a feeling that it leaned more towards ownership. The Elf King, in all his nobility and splendor, wisdom and discernment, owned him, and Bard found himself not put off by the idea at all. 

He opened the pouch and poured the coins into his hands and his jaw dropped in shock. There was enough gold here to feed his children for months, buy new clothing and bedding, plus a few things their home was in desperate need of, as well as supplies for the desperate repairs needed to the roof and to his barge. It was more gold than he had made in the last 2 years.

Bard put the coins back in the pouch and then the pouch back into his pocket. He couldn’t help but smile as he gazed into the darkness. No, he was not bothered by the fact that he was now the property of the Elf King. Not in the slightest.

“At least,” he said to himself as he stood, patting his pocket, “I didn’t sell myself cheap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so got to get my Atlas back.
> 
> The chapter title is from "Break Me, Shake Me" by Savage Garden.
> 
> Thanks to everyone again!!


	7. I Want To Dream With You

Laketown lay nestled on the northwestern part of the Long Lake in the Rhovanion. Constructed entirely of wood, it stood wooden on pillars sunk into the bed of the Long Lake. It had been here since before Smaug came and destroyed Dale, the survivors from that horrific day having taken refuge amongst their kin in the town. 

Laketown was also the central hub, so-to-speak, in trade between Dorwinion, a human realm on the fertile coastal plain on the west shore of the Sea of Rhûn, and the Elf King in Mirkwood. Wine barrels were taken from Thranduil's caverns in Mirkwood along the Celduin, via Bard’s barge, to Laketown, where they were redirected to Dorwinion. The wine was then paid for and filled with the necessary goods before being shipped back north. A constant cycle that was beneficial for all. 

As Bard walked along the market area, his children dashing to and fro ahead of him, he couldn’t help but smile at his good fortune. While Sigrid was looking for new cooking instruments and other household necessities, Bain was marveling at all the food that was on display that wasn’t fish. It was welcoming indeed to have something else to look forward to eating. Tilda had her little hands gripping her father’s tunic as he carried her through the market. Though she has been walking pretty well for a few months now, Bard still was not about to let run free in the market. There were too many places someone has small as her could get into.

As he watched his two oldest as they went about the market, and as he looked into the face of his youngest, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of deep rooted sadness tug at his heart. He was proud that he could provide for his children. He only wished their mother had been here to enjoy it also, and to see how well their offspring were growing. Tears stung his eyes, but he pushed it away, kissing Tilda on the temple, causing her to giggle and wiggle in his arms. He smiled at her and she kissed the tip of his nose, causing him to laugh as well.

Everyone in town knew Bard and the trouble he had with the Master. Many people, while they didn’t dislike Bard, just avoided him because they were afraid of the Master’s wrath. Association with Bard was not healthy in Laketown. But this morning, everyone seemed just a little bit friendlier. Word had spread already about what had transpired last night at the gate, and the rumor that Bard now worked for the Elf King directly was causing many to look even more favorably at Bard than they had before. Given the fact that the Master and Alfrid were scarce was an added bonus in it all. Bard noticed with a certain amount of gladness that the spies the Master usually had following him were nowhere to be seen either.

Though he did feel eyes on him. He knew these to be the elves that Prince Legolas had told him would be keeping an eye on the town and on him. He sensed them, as he had the Master’s spies, but he knew that the difference was he didn’t have to worry about what he said and what he did, and the fact that he could be thrown in jail any minute.

Thinking of the elf prince, twists Bard’s thoughts toward the Elf King, and that is not something that he wishes to think about. Bard is grateful for what he has been given, and what he can now provide for his children, but there is a part of him that wishes he had never laid eyes on the fey creature. A creature that tormented him once he tried to go to sleep last night. He could not remember the dream so much as the essence of it, like walking unseen into a spider web; one that is small but yet feels as if it could still trap you to be saved as a meal for later. A strange analogy to be sure, but he could think of nothing better. Bard shook his head. He was vexed and bewitched. He just knew it.

He had answered all of Sigrid and Bain’s questions as best he could this morning over breakfast, though there were some questions he was not completely truthful in answering.

“What was he like?” Sigrid had asked, practically bouncing in her chair.

“A very dignified and wise elf,” Bard had answered. Inside his head, however: _Beautiful beyond compare. The heaven’s would weep and the stars would fall at his behest. The gods themselves wail at such perfection, for even for them, such as his is unattainable._

“Was he as scary as the tales say?” Bain had asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Oh, aye,” Bard had said with a smile and his children gasped. “But those who are good of heart need not fear him. He is just and fair.” _Fair as starlight, bewitching as the sea. As treacherous as the tides yet as calm as the water’s depths. No matter how unsettled the sea is, swimming through it to reach what lies hidden, would be more than worth it._

Bard was glad that he would never have to see the Elf King again. He knew without a doubt, that he would make a fool of himself in the face of such exquisiteness. He just knew it.

Bewitched indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone once again for reading, comments, and kudos. I promise I will get to answering my comments soon. I am kinda having to conserve my internet due to my limited data allowance. 
> 
> This story is taking over!! I had four chapters written after this one, but then I went back and added what I thought was just going to be a chapter or two and now has turned into 5 and taken on a life of its own. 
> 
> And I did a stupid thing and watched Dracula Untold. So, another idea popped into my head and then today I made myself stop writing and played this game of mine, and I'll be damned if another idea didn't pop into my head. These two just won't leave me alone.


	8. Burn It To The Wick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter title has nothing to do with anything. I just liked the way it sounded.
> 
> Also, I will be posting 2 chapters today!
> 
> Enjoy!!

To say the Master was angry was an understatement. 

Everything had been going along fine. He had the full coffers of the town, these people feared his wrath so they did his bidding, he had a big house, and plenty of food and fine clothes, and, the greatest of all, the elves left them alone.

Of course he knew that the Elf King owned the land and the lake, that it was all part of the Great Greenwood, and that the people of Laketown had been allowed to stay here, to live and die here, by King Thranduil, just as long as the trade lines were kept open. The town went about its business, the Master running the show and keeping the profits, and the Elf King stayed in his realm, uncaring what happened as long as he got his wine.

Until Bard had messed it all up. That damn upstart!

“Curse him! That pretentious bastard. He probably went and threw himself at the Elf King’s feet, sniveling and whining, telling him what a horrible person I was and how I kept all the town’s gold locked away, and was letting people starve, and were throwing people in jail for no reason at all, and all that nonsense.” He shook his head, opening the drapes just enough to peer out onto the street below. “How dare he? So ungrateful.”

“So ungrateful, sire,” Alfrid sniveled. “And lying to Elf King. Why? Like we had ever done anything to him.”

“Precisely! Some people…” The Master stood in thought for a few moments. Alfrid, standing behind him, rolled his eyes, growing impatient. “It is a shame the elves are keeping such a close eye on Bard. With them about, something can’t _happen_ to Bard, to get him out of our hair once and for all.”

“Yes, a shame,” Alfrid agreed, his nod lacking enthusiasm. “But the elf I spoke to at the gate was the king’s son. That alone makes it much too dangerous to try anything against Bard.”

“Why?” The Master wondered aloud. Stepping away from the window, he shook his head. “Why has Lord Thranduil taken such an interest in Bard, of all people? The descendant of a failure, good for nothing. Thranduil is not a fool, or short on memory. He knew Girion. Bard insults authority on a good day. He has no respect for anyone, and I know he uses that barge for more than just ferrying people and delivering the wine. He has to be doing something illegal.”

“Maybe if we could prove it,” Alfrid offered, though he couldn’t think of how.

“Yes,” the Master stated, his face breaking out into a grin. “It is a shame that we can’t.”

___________________________________

“Lord Bard.”

Bard froze in his tracks. No one had ever called him ‘lord’ before and as far as he was concerned, no one should. He turned halfway around, his eyes widening in surprise at the one who had called out to him. 

“Legolas?” He said and then remembered whom he was talking to. A lord he may not be, but Legolas was a prince. “Forgive me, my prince. You startled me.”

Bard was on his way back home from ferrying certain goods across the way where several men with empty wagons had waited to take it all away. Bard had brought the goods from a boat he had met from farther north up the Celduin as it passed to the east of the Mountains of Mirkwood. The goods hadn’t been illegal, per se, but how they were obtained before being passed along to Bard, were a little shady. While the Elf King paid well, Bard still had promises to keep. 

“I’m sorry. That was not my intent.” Legolas actually smiled slightly. “I know it is late and I hate to bother you, but my father wishes to speak with you.”

“Now?” Bard asked. It was nearly midnight and going to the Woodland Realm and then back again wouldn’t have him home until around noon tomorrow.

Legolas nodded. “Do not worry of your children, Lord Bard. Tauriel is with them.”

Bard wasn’t about to refuse an order from the king, though he wanted to see his children. He hadn’t seen them all day, since breakfast that morning. And a nice breakfast it was: ham, eggs, biscuits with butter and jam, and sausage. It felt good to be able to provide for his children and in that, he had the Elf King to thank. Best not to keep him waiting.

He nodded his agreement and Legolas nodding himself, turned and began to stroll down the walkway, toward Bard’s barge. 

There were very few people out this night as Legolas led him around to their destination; the bargeman had to marvel at how easily the elf traversed the sometimes-confusing town’s walkways. Bard had lived here all his life, and there were times, especially at night, when he took a wrong turn.

Once at the barge, Legolas hopped aboard and took a seat while Bard untied the barge and made ready to sail. The moon was high overhead, bathing the Long Lake in silvery light so bright, that Bard could see clear across on both sides of the lake. 

“May I ask you something?” Bard said once they were through the gate. Legolas turned to face him and nodded. “You called me Lord Bard. I am not a lord, nor would I claim to be.”

“You serve the King of the Woodland Realm and these lands beyond,” the elf answered, his face seeming to glow in the moonlight. “He considers you an ally of his realm.”

Bard didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he asked no more questions as they traveled onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much appreciation to all y'all.


	9. A Magical Mysteria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, something...happens. Well, _something_.
> 
> And Bard gets a promotion!!

Instead of guiding the bargeman all the way to the throne, Legolas left him by himself on the bridge leading to the elevated area when the Elf King’s throne was. He gave no reason why, just bowed, said “I take my leave” and then he was gone. 

Bard sighed and made his way over the bridge. He did a very stupid thing and glanced over the side, immediately wishing he hadn’t. It was too far down for his liking, especially when there were no railings to be seen, to keep one from falling over into the depths below. Of course, where elves were concerned, he supposed they didn’t need railings.

He could see the dais from where he was. Could see the Elf King on his throne, lounging in it, legs crossed, foot bouncing as if in boredom, and his arms splayed on the arms of the throne. He turned his head slightly, and Bard knew, could _feel_ , the Elf King’s eyes on him.

As much as Bard wanted to keep his eyes on the elf as well, he thought it best to watch his feet to make sure he didn’t just walk off and fall to his death. 

“Bard,” the Elf King said as soon as the bargeman approached the throne. Bard couldn’t repress the shiver that rolled up his spine upon hearing his name spoken so. “As my son told you, I apologize for the late hour in which I have summoned you.” He stood up from the throne and made his way down the steps. “But it is a matter I consider important and did not wish to delay in.” He came right up to Bard, stopping less than a foot from him. The entire time he had been walking, his eyes had been locked with the bargeman’s, Bard unable to look away. “I trust you and your family are well.”

“Yes, my king,” Bard answered after swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Thranduil was smiling slightly, amusement in his eyes. “Very well, thanks to you and your generosity.”

The Elf King chuckled, a wondrous sound to Bard. “My generosity could be much more than a few gold coins,” he said, the smile still gracing his lips. “I am in need of your service, Bard of Laketown, above that which you all ready provide.”

Bard’s mind could have easily drifted, imagined something different, but he made himself pay attention. “Whatever you wish, my king.”

Thranduil’s head tilted to one side, his smile widening, and Bard fought to keep from squirming under his gaze. “I have recently sent word to Dorwinion, requesting we expand our trade agreement, and I just received their reply that they have agreed to this. Since Laketown is the liaison, if you will, between my kingdom and Dorwinion, I will require someone to oversee my interests. I would like for that person to be you.”

“ _Me_?” Bard asked incredulously. 

“Yes, you,” The Elf King returned with no slight bit of amusement. “You will oversee the shipments as they arrive, keep track of the inventory, and inspect said goods.” Clasping his hands behind his back, the Elvenking began making a slow circle, with Bard as the center. “You will also need to oversee a new dock and warehouse, since the Dorwinion barge will be much larger than previous to account for the increase in goods being shipped.” His silver eyes held Bard’s as he traversed in front of him once more. The bargeman’s stayed locked on his until the elf stepped behind him and he could not see him with turning around. “Also, you will need a larger barge yourself. I still wish you to deliver to me. I will provide a few of my people to aid you in loading and such, if you would prefer.” He stopped in front of Bard. “I will also provide the barge for you, and not only will you be paid for your…service, but you may take from the inventory what you wish. There will also be a certain amount of extra that I am sure Laketown’s market would benefit from.”

Bard was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but no words would come out.

“You doubt my faith in you,” The Elf King stated, as if reading Bard’s mind. “You hesitate to have faith in yourself.” 

“I am but a simple man. A bargeman. To most of the people, including the Master, of Laketown, I am nothing but trouble. I do things that would get me thrown in jail if I were caught –“

“To provide for your children, because you have no other choice.” The Elf King visage turned serious, his eyes silver depths that held Bard as if he were rooted to the spot. “You have gone without so your children would not have to. You still do. I do not fault you for taking food that otherwise would rot in a warehouse and distributing it to those who need it, as you did earlier tonight. The only reason you did not deliver it to the people of Laketown was because you feared I would not approve, but I would have.”

Bard, through sheer force of will, broke from the Elf King’s gaze and looked down at his feet. “I am still not the honorable man you think I am. I fear that someday you may find your faith misplaced.”

Fingers, long, full of strength but gentle, and cool on his skin, cupped Bard’s chin and lifted his head up until his eyes once again met those silver-blue orbs of the Elf King. He was standing mere inches away now, so close that Bard could feel the elf’s breath on his face. The bargeman took in a shuddering breath. To be this close to something so ethereal, so immaculate was thrilling to say the least. To have the elf standing so close, able to feel the heat of his body, his breath ghosting over his face, was making Bard want to reach out to touch, feel. He found his body moving of its own accord, leaning closer.

“You give yourself far too little credit, Bard,” the Elf King said, barely over a whisper. Bard could smell jasmine, oak moss, sandalwood, vanilla, and several other scents he could not identify, all rolled into one intoxicating fragrance. “You say you are not an honorable man, yet you have done many honorable things.” The Elf King’s thumb stroked against the side of Bard’s mouth. His heart was beating faster, heat pumping through his veins. “My faith in you will never be misplaced. I see into the very heart of you. I see the man that you are and I also see the man you will be.”

Bard knew he should be pulling away, trying with all his might to break this spell, but he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to do so. It was as if all the heat in his body was rushing toward a center point, and that point was where the elf’s fingers rested on his chin, the thumb now stroking his bottom lip. Even when the silver-blue eyes shifted down to watch that thumb move, the spell was still not broken.

“I will do what you ask of me, my king,” Bard whispered, unable to do more. “If only because you ask it of me.” The thumb stopped moving, the fingers disappearing from his chin, only to trace along his jaw, to the back of his head, burying into his hair. “I am no one else’s but yours.”

And then lips too soft for words brushed against his, and as Bard closed his eyes, he knew in that very moment that he would never wish to belong to anyone else as long as he drew breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to Thank everyone again. You give me the encouragement I need when I think "Why am I writing this? It's not any good!" THANK YOU!!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Hysteria" by Def Leppard.


	10. Walking Away With My Heart and My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty goodness ahead.

Bard didn’t know exactly what this meant, or what was going to happen in the next few moments, but he knew he definitely wanted to find out. More than anything. 

He wasn’t a complete idiot in this matter. He knew what happened between two males, though not first hand. He had never even thought of being with another male, of any species. In truth, he had never given it much thought, because there had never been a male who had caught his attention in that way. But right now, he wanted to be with this male. 

Those lips, teasing warmth, were still just a hair’s breath away and then…they were gone.

Everything was gone: the fingers, the breath, the warmth. All of it. 

Bard stood in a daze, opening his eyes slowly to find the Elf King no longer near him. Bard stumbled a few steps forward, gazing around, but seeing nothing. His brain was in a fog that was slowly lifting, his body protesting the sudden loss. 

“I am sorry,” came the soft words and Bard was able to focus enough to see the Elf King standing at the base of his throne, his back to Bard, his head hung low. “Forgive me.”

“Wha—” was all Bard’s confused brain was able to stumble out. 

“You must go,” the Elf King said, and he was not commanding Bard to do so. He was _pleading_ with him to. “Please.”

Bard nodded dumbly, his body and mind numb. He turned on unsure feet, and made his way from the throne and down the steps to where an elf waited for him. Without a word, he followed the elf.

_________________________________________

Back on his barge, and on his way back to Laketown, Bard was still bewildered.

Each step he had taken away from the Elf King had not only been clumsy and difficult, but it was as if he was leaving something behind. And the farther he got away from it, the more he missed it and wanted to go back and get it and keep it close as tight as he was able for as long as he could. Not only that, but something was being wrenched from him still. Pieces of his heart. Wisps of his soul. They were lying on the ground at the Elf King’s feet.

He could still feel the fingers on his chin, in his hair, just as he could feel that ghost of a touch of lips on his. He raised his hand to his mouth, his fingers skimming over his bottom lip. What had happened? What had made the Elf King stop?

Was it because he was a Man, a mortal? Was it because he was so low of station, no matter what praises were gifted upon him?

He remained in a numb state even as he crossed through the gate, ignoring the greeting the gatekeeper offered to him, and as he docked his barge and made his way to his home. His mind was replaying over and over again those few inexplicable, blissful moments when the most splendid being this world could be blessed with was so close to him, only to gone so quickly. He burned those moments, those feelings, into his brain and with each step he took, he became more determined, as the fog was lifting a little bit more.  
It may not happen again, he may never get that close again, but the Elf King had woken something in him, something so profound, something so _true_ , that he would risk nearly anything for just one more second.

Once he arrived home, he found a female elf sitting at his table. It was nearly sun-up, orange and red peeking out over the horizon, making the lake seem as if it were on fire.

“My Lord Bard,” the female elf said standing from her seat. She wore green and her hair was red. “I am Tauriel.”

“Greetings, Tauriel,” Bard returned. “I hope my children did not give you too much trouble.”

“No, my lord,” she said with a bright smile. “They are a delight.”

“Thank you,” Bard stated. “And for putting up with them, nonetheless.”

“I did not mind,” she said as she walked to the door. “I have a feeling I will be spending more time with them in the future.” And with that, she was gone, the door shutting softly behind her.

There were still a few more hours before his children awoke, so Bard made his way to his bed. He tossed his coat onto the foot of the bed, removed his boots, and fell onto his bed face first, toes still touching the floor, and cursed out loud, though muffled, for several minutes. After which he flung himself onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Was he wrong? Was he stupid? Struck senseless? His thoughts kept turning to the Elf King and those moments together. And to what could have been. He wanted. He needed. And he was damn sure the elf did also. Why had he turned away so suddenly, when they had been so close to… _what_? What was it? What could it be? Could it be anything? Could it be more than just a one-time thing?

Bard thought so, at least as far as he was concerned. One didn’t just take one sip from the cleanest and purest of waters, just as one did not take just one perfect jewel from a whole pile of them. No, a man starving did not take just a single bite from the sweetest, juiciest piece of forbidden fruit he found.

No, but what could Bard do? And how could he get close enough once again to do it.

He laid awake, rest far from him, wondering, visions dancing before his eyes, his heart in turmoil.

He didn’t know it, but he wasn’t alone in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bard, but all will get better, I promise.
> 
> Thanks once again to everyone. I really cannot thank you guys enough.
> 
> I am writing like crazy. I have even had to start taking notes so I don't forget anything.
> 
> I have even found a few videos on these two that I have been watching. These two...they are ruling my life right now.
> 
> There was something else I wanted to point out about the story, but damn if I can remember.


	11. Heart Build For One, All Going Down In a Landslide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Thranduil's POV.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thranduil stood on the outlook overlooking the river. It cut through the forest west, serving as a natural defense. If it ever came to it, the bridge leading to the gate of his kingdom could be collapsed, leaving would-be intruders to find a way over the rapids and sharp rocks below.

His forest was not what it had once been. An evil was welling up from Dol Guldor that was changing his sacred woodland into something dangerous and profane. Not even his magic could stop this.

But, even though his eyes, gazed upon his forest, his mind was on something else. Or, better yet, _someone_.

How had this happened? His intent had always been to employ the Man, and only that. He already saw to the wine barrels. He had never been late, never disturbed the contents, took great care, and had the sense enough to check the barrels themselves for rot and let Dorwinion know. 

Thranduil himself had taken great care in this. He’s had a few of his elves keep an eye on the bargeman, and they had reported to him that he was a good man, one who provided for his children, above his own needs, and was always hounded in some way or form by the Master of Laketown.

The Elf King had studied the bargeman himself, once coming to the dock, staying out of sight, and observing. He could see to the heart of the Man, as he had said, and saw nothing that alarmed him, but only solidified his decision.

The flirting, that had been a surprise. It wasn’t something he had planned on doing, and it had been reflexively done. Once he had realized he was doing it, he had kept it subtle, but allowed it to happen. The bargeman, Bard, was not an unattractive man. Thranduil had seen and dealt with many mortals in his nearly 6,000 years, but none of them had ever won his interest. In fact, no one, elf or man, had caught his interest since the death of his wife when his son was just a small child. He had thought that part of him, that part that felt desire, want, and need, had passed on with her.

But then this mortal had stood before him. This ill kept mortal, in clothing about to fall apart, work callused hands, and very little manners, with eyes that comprised the amber of a sunrise with the brown of the leaves, green of moss, and flecks of blue and gray. Stubborn pride and determination, a fire inside of him that burned bright in the Elf King’s eyes, a gentle soul, and an intellect born of life and of living it. There had been something there, something Thranduil had felt and seen from the start, and almost kindred quality he had not expected to find in one so young on this earth.

And this bargeman was a handsome man, beautiful even. His smile lit up the dark corners of Thranduil’s heart, made the beat of it more profound. And the great Elvenking found himself wanting - _longing_. He wanted to touch and be touched, he wanted to feel and be felt. He wanted to know the Man’s scent, be intoxicated by it, and he wanted to taste skin and sweat and the very essence of him, the earthiness, the _life_. He wanted to hold him, feel his heart beating, and feel his breath upon his skin. He just wanted, and oh, how so.

He wanted to take care of, spoil even, treasure, and adore. He wanted to give of himself, be open and free.

And he could have had all he wanted, but he had pulled away, distanced himself from it. The bargeman had been willing, but Thranduil had turned from him. Only now, after the Man was gone, had Thranduil realized that he had been wanting also.

He turned from his thoughts and to his son who was coming up the stairs toward him. Legolas stopped and eyed his father from the entranceway.

“Is everything all right, Ada,” he asked.

Thranduil nodded. “Everything is fine, my son.” He hesitated for a moment. “Did the bargeman make it safely back home?”

“Yes, Ada, and Tauriel has also returned. She speaks highly of Bard’s children. She said they are well mannered to have been raised by only their father. Intelligent and engaging.”

Thranduil could not help the small smile that came to his lips. It wasn’t really a surprise to him, after all. “Thank you. Is there anything else?”

“No, Ada. I will return to my duties.” He bowed his head in respect, and then darted off quickly and silently.

Left alone to his thoughts once again, Thranduil cursed himself a fool.

Was it because Bard was a mortal? That in a time that was a mere drop of water in the sea of Thranduil’s life, Bard would be gone, his mortal years catching up to him and taking him away? Or was it because Thranduil had cut himself off from emotion as much as he could over the centuries that he had convinced himself that he was above, beyond, incapable of such things? It was no secret that many elves, once their children were born, no longer needed physical contact, that passion, sexual in nature. Thranduil had thought himself that way also, but it obviously wasn’t true. And why had no one else, none of the elves in his kingdom, brought out this in him? 

It was a hunger he wished he had not denied himself. He knew that this could only lead to more heartbreak for him. Another loss he would have to overcome, but would the pain of that loss be any different from the regret of not having at all, having not even tried.

The wind blew cold over the forest, bringing with it the smell of rain and of the lake. Thranduil’s eyes were cast in the direction of the glow in the distance, the glow of candlelight and lamplight, over to a town built on the lake. To the one his heart longed for, that his body craved, and that his soul sought after. 

He prayed to the Valar that he had not lost what little time there was left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to continue including a heartfelt "THANK YOU!" to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and comments.
> 
> Also, I didn't mean for this fic to be this long. Is it too long? And I still have so much that I want to write. I said this was a slow build, but I didn't even expect this. I am getting to it, honestly. 
> 
> The Chapter title is from the song "Everything You Do (You're Sexing Me) by Fiona Flanagan and Kip Winger. Here if you wanna read the lyrics or hear the song:
> 
> https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Fiona/Everything-You-Do-You-re-Sexing-Me-Duet-With-Kip-Winger


	12. Bittersweet Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Bard chapter. And he roughs up Alfrid. ENJOY!!

The lumber for the new warehouse and dock were being shipped from Dorwinion at the Elf King’s request. It would take it a few days to arrive, but already the town was looking forward to it.

All Bard had to do was mention it to Percy, and soon everyone in Laketown not only knew about the commerce the Elf King was bringing to the town, but they were also happy and excited about it.

Many people stopped Bard and thanked him, or shook his hand, or patted him on the back. It was strange to be so highly regarded all the sudden. 

Bard was present, but not fully. It was as if he was half-asleep. That night when he had almost been kissed by the Elf King had been nearly a week before, but he could still feel, could still smell the scent that had surrounded the elf. One more day and it would be time for him to take the barrels of wine to the elven forest dock. One more day that seemed to drag along as if time were slowing down. It was irritating. 

He wondered what he would do when that time finally did come. Would he stay on his barge and pretend nothing had (almost) happened, or would he demand one of the elves take him to see the king. He honestly had no idea what to do. One choice made him seem as if nothing had happened at all and the other made him seem desperate.

But he was, wasn’t he?

While Bard was one who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, especially to someone like the Master, someone who didn’t deserve an ounce of respect, he wasn’t as bold as some thought he was. Sure, he would like nothing better than to go right back to Mirkwood, storm in, demand to see the king, and then insist on some kind of explanation, reasoning to the madness. But the Elf King was, well, a king, and worthy of respect and admiration. 

Was it even right for Bard to want? Maybe he had misread everything. Yes, of course, someone almost kissing you is so easily misinterpreted. A casual mistake. Happens all the time. Bard shook his head at that. There was no mistaking it, but who was he, a lowly mortal, to question the motives of one such as the Elvenking?

There was a sound behind him, a sniveling, up-to-no-good sound that could only mean one person.

“Yes, Alfrid? To what do I owe this pleasure?” Bard couldn’t hide the fact that it wasn’t a pleasure at all.

Alfrid’s face twisted into something that appeared to be a cross between a forced smile and a grimace. “ _Lord Bard_ ,” he said with all the derision he could muster, which was apparently quite a lot. Bard just smirked. “It seems things are looking up for you. Groveling at the feet of the Elvenking does wonders for you.”

Bard set down the hammer he had been working with, just to make sure he didn’t give Alfrid a sympathetic pat on the head with it, and turned to the whining ass. “Grovel? Really. And what is it you do to the Master, hmm? Do you not grovel under his table, begging for the scraps he throws you?”

Alfrid sneered. “You should be very glad that the Elvenking things so highly of you, Bard. Because otherwise it would be a shame if something were to happen to you, or your family.”

Before Alfrid had the last word out of his mouth, Bard had him by the collar and shoved up against the nearest wall, slamming his head back into the wood.

“I can withstand your threats to my person,” he began in a low voice, almost like growl, “but I will not tolerate you threatening my family. Do I make myself clear? If you do so again, I will not hesitate to make you regret it.” He released Alfrid, but not before slamming him once again into the wall, knocking the breath out of the miserable rat. Alfrid huffed, righting himself, before stomping off.

Bard sighed, brushing wayward strands of hair out of his face. Those few that had seen the exchange, nodded to Bard in understanding and in gladness for putting the little ferret in his place. Bard returned the nods, and then decided that he’s had enough for now. He just wanted to be somewhere else, someplace he wished he could be but couldn’t.

Once he was out of earshot and sight of anyone else, Bard leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes. This was torture. Pure madness. If you wouldn’t look a fool, he would run to the King’s Halls, throw himself at his feet, and beg, plead, whatever he had to do. 

He brought his hands up to his face and dug the palms of them into his eyes. How could one convince a being like the Elf King that a spontaneous liaison between then two of them was not as crazy as it seemed? 

“Am I to be driven mad by this?” He asked of a distant Elf King, wishing his words could be heard across the expanse between them. “Am I to have to hide this, bury it deep within myself, to save my sanity? Is not my sanity a worthy price?” He flung his hands down and against the wall behind him, and he was not surprised when tears stung his eyes. “If I could live the rest of my days with this ache unattended, I would do so. But I cannot.” He looked up into the gray, cloudy sky. “I almost wish I had never met you. Because in the not knowing, I was ignorant and my reasoning was not hanging by a thread. I would not have you haunting me so.”

Deciding that this was doing him no good, he wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his coat, a new one, bought with the gold given to him by the Elf King. With one last sigh, one from deep down and full of dejection, he pushed his back from the wall and made his way home. At least, he would find some solace there, in his children, if any could be found at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action in the next chapter. I promise. The fighting kind of action and just so y'all know, I am working on a chapter with a different kind of action right now. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone!!! I really appreciate you guys. You are great!!!!
> 
> Chapter title comes from a Survivor song called "Broken Promises".


	13. Habits Hard as Hell to Break

Bard sat on his barge, barrels full of the Dorwinion wine waiting to be unloaded. Unfortunately, there were no elves here waiting at the dock.

Bard had a sinking feeling. His mind trailed in two different directions: was there some kind of trouble that was keeping the elves from being here to meet him and collect the wine, or was he no longer welcome. Though he thought it foolish, he couldn’t help but think the latter. Surely if the Elf King no longer had any need of his services, then he would have let him know, right? And why would he not need him? Who else would bring the wine?

Bard knew he was replaceable, but he really wished that he wasn’t. And he knew above all us that he wanted to be of more service to his king. Much more.

He had come to a decision. Last night while he lay awake yet again, he had decided that everything be damned. He just wanted to see him, talk to him, tell him how he felt, and how he couldn’t possibly go on this way. The Elf would either have to see his reason or have him killed right there on the spot, one of those were going to save Bard from this madness. 

Bard sighed in both impatience and concern. He had been here for over an hour and no sign of anyone. Jumping up suddenly, he grabbed his bow and arrows and jumped onto the dock. He would go far, he told himself, just a little ways into the forest, just to see if he could see or hear anything amiss. There wasn’t any way he could make his way to the Elf King’s halls. Legolas had led him, twice, but it had been dark, and attempting to retrace those steps would just get him lost, sure as anything. 

Bard stepped to the end of the dock and with each step he had taken, a sense of foreboding grew heavier inside of him. His common sense was telling him to get back on his barge and at the very least steer it away from shore to wait, but he also knew that if something was amiss, he should try to help. He was, after all, in service of King of Mirkwood.

Mirkwood. He had preferred the Great Greenwood, as he was sure the elves did also. The Woodsman spoke of ill things that now dwelled in the forest, evil and dark things. Even the elves had taken to calling it by Mirkwood, though with much regret and distain.

Bard notched an arrow to his bow, but kept the tip pointed to the ground. He did not want to seem hostile in any way to the elves, but wanted to be prepared if something else jumped out at him. He walked a few more feet forward, eyes studying the shadows. He could not see much. The farther in, the darker it got, even though it was just after noon, the sun shining bright overhead.

Apparently, common sense be damned, because Bard was venturing farther into the forest. Glancing behind him, he could not see the dock or his barge anymore. This worried him, as well as what he could find if he kept venturing farther, but venture farther he did. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Bard turned toward the sound of the voice to find a female elf coming toward him. It was Tauriel, carrying a bow. “You aren’t supposed to here. It’s too dangerous.” She spoke in Common and kept her voice just above a whisper. “King Thranduil will not like it that you are here in the forest now. He would be most upset is something were to happen to you.” She came up to Bard, her bow at the ready, her eyes warily watching the shadows of the forest around them.

“He would?” Bard couldn’t help but ask. _Literally_ could not help but ask as the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.

The she-elf glanced sideways at him, amusement passing over her features, before focusing once again on the forest. “You need to get back to your barge with haste.” She motioned behind him, back toward the direction of the dock. 

Bard, bow still at the ready, began to take careful steps backwards, as Tauriel did the same. Glancing behind him, he could see the noonday light shining bright just beyond the trees.

“Of course King Thranduil would be worried. Why would you think that he would not, when it is apparent to all how much you mean to him?” She answered, her smile full of amusement and disbelief that Bard would think otherwise. 

Bard shook his head, confused. “Are you sure?”

Tauriel’s eyes met his. “Of course, my lord. Never have I seen him so forlorn. Since your last parting, he has been despondent, spending his time out on the balcony, his eyes on the locality of your home.” 

Bard could not believe her words. Surely not. Surely there was no way the Elf King was feeling this same madness. Before he could raise voice to his doubts and disbelief, there was loud crashing sound from the trees not too far from where they stood. “These are dangerous times, Lord Bard. The forest is not safe now. We must hurry.”

“What is going on here?” Bard questioned, and in spite of what was happening, glad finally to know the Elf King’s name. _Thranduil._

“ _Those_ are what is going on here,” Tauriel shouted, swinging her bow around and firing. Bard followed the arrow and watched as it embedded in one of the eyes of a giant spider. 

“What the --!” He cursed, letting loose an arrow of his own, which buried itself in one of the creatures other eyes. 

“They have been coming up from Dol Guldor,” Tauriel explained as another spider climbed over the first one’s still twitching body and made a jump at them. Another spider jumped out right behind it.

Tauriel shouldered her bow and drew her sword, meeting the first spider head on, slashing at it, and causing the vile creature to hiss in pain. The other spider was hopping around her, trying to flank her. Bard drew another arrow, putting it right between the spider’s pinchers and another arrow directly into an eye. The spider squealed in pain, throwing itself onto its back and dying. 

The spider that Tauriel had been fighting collapsed, dead. “Good work, Bard of Laketown. I did not know you were so proficient a bowman.” She said as she eyed the spider and the placement of the arrows. “Maybe –“ She turned and her eyes grew wide. “Look out!”

Bard took aim at the spider that jumped right down in front of him from the canopy above. Just as the arrow sunk home, pinchers from another spider, dug into Bard’s shoulder, releasing its venom into his body. Tauriel drove her sword into the creatures head, causing it to let go. As she finished it off, Bard fell to his knees, his world getting darker. He heard the she-elf’s voice, but it was as if it was from a great distance and then he collapsed face down on the forest floor, everything going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking everyone again.
> 
> On a funny note: I started a Sims 3 Barduil game last night. Took me along time to get them just right, but everything is going great. The only problem is a certain elf king won't keep his clothes on. He cooks, goes to get the mail, and gardens naked. I have my game modded, a lot of modding, but I don't know where that nudist thing is coming from. 
> 
> Anyway, I will update again soon.


	14. The Magic In Your Touch

Bard was unaware of Tauriel hoisting him over her shoulder as if he weighed no more than a mere child, or her running with him through the forest to the gates of the King’s hall. He was unaware when another pair of hands lifted him, cradled him in their arms, and carried him through and over.

He had no idea where his body was laid or of the hands that stripped him of his clothing, or of the great care of the one who tended his wounds. He hadn’t felt the magic that poured into his body to heal him, driving away the sting of the spider’s venom. 

Nor was he conscious when he was wrapped up in a mantle, one side the color of flame, the other that sparkled like gold. Or as his hair was brushed from his face with the ghost of a touch, a gentle hand caressing the side of his head, thumb tracing down to feel the pulse, steady and strong, in his neck. Or of the eyes, ones that only seemed to show the coldness of the heart, but as they looked upon him, softened, watching him as he slept. Or how often those fingers, stronger than the mightiest steal, were tender on his fevered skin.

He would not also remember waking up, feverish, his eyes opening to come upon the ethereal creature who sat on the bed at his side, watching him with thinly veiled worry. He would not remember that most beautiful being was alight with moonlight, fighting away the darkness that was all around. He would not remember how he gasped at the beauty before him, at the privilege of seeing the radiance of Eldar as it enshrouded the Elvenking. 

He reached out to touch the light, so radiant and peaceful, so pure and perfect. His fingers lighted on the flawless splendor, and tears weld in his eyes as he did so.

“It is as if all he stars in the heavens shine down upon you,” he had whispered in awe. “They are as enchanted with you as I.” His hand slid down, no strength left to hold his fingers to the cheek they had rested upon, only to be caught by a slender hand. “Heaven bends to take my hand.” He smiled in his delirium. “I still remain faithfully and only yours, as I always will.” Then he fell back into unconsciousness. 

He did not hear the words spoken softly in elven, and even if he had heard them, he would not have known their meaning, or how deeply that implication was. 

“The grace gifted to me as a favored child of the Valar, let it pass to him. I beseech you to spare him for my sake.”

 

_____________________________________________________________

Thranduil filled the goblet with wine, the number of times he had done this since Tauriel had brought Bard to him was of no concern. It wasn’t as many times as one would think, since he only poured the wine when he took his eyes off the bargeman, and that was very few.

It had been two days. When Tauriel had brought Bard in, he had been so pale, his breathing shallow, the spider’s poison working quickly. As far as Thranduil knew, no Man had ever been bitten by one of the giant spiders before now. Of course, the first one would have to be this one. 

Thranduil had gathered Bard from his Captain, cradled his as he would a child, and brought him to his chambers, all the while praying to the Valar that he be spared. It wouldn’t be right or fair if Bard were taken from him now, just when he had realized…

It took a considerable amount of his power to cast the venom from the Man’s body and even more to repair the damage done. So much that he had to let his glamour fall, the scars of his battle with a dragon so many years ago in view for all to see. But he hadn’t cared. Whatever price he had to pay to ensure that Bard remained in this world was worth it.

He took his seat once more on the bed. Setting the wine aside, he reached for a crystal bowl in which was clean and cool water. Taking a washcloth from where it sat next to where the bowl had been, he dipped it in the water, strained it out, and then used it to wipe Bard’s brow. 

“ _Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen_ ,” Thranduil whispered, setting the bowl, and washcloth aside. He leaned over, running the knuckles of one hand over the Man’s cheek. “ _An ngell nîn, echuia, mell nin_.”

Sighing, Thranduil sat up, closing his eyes, pleading with the Valar once again, as he rested his hand on top of the bargeman’s. “Do you not hear me?” He whispered.

“I hear you,” said Bard, coughing after he did so. Thranduil turned around quickly, setting one knee on the bed as he leaned over once again. “I hear you just fine.” Bard opened his eyes slightly, and smiled. 

Thranduil couldn’t help but smile also (and in his mind, he briefly wondered just how long it had been since he had smiled in joy). Leaning over, he cupped Bard’s face in his hands. “You had me worried.”

Bard’s smile only widened. “Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” Bard said, his voice hoarse. “I saw a few giant spiders and thought that would do it.”

“You fool,” Thranduil said with a shake of his head. “You all ready had my attention. You’ve had it since the moment I first saw you.”

“As you have had mine,” Bard whispered and then he began to cough. 

“Here,” Thranduil got up and poured water into a goblet, bringing it back for Bard. He helped the bargeman to sit up, cradling him against his chest, one arm around his shoulders, while the other held the goblet to his lips. “Slowly, _melme_.”

Bard drank until the goblet was empty. He sighed, burying his face into Thranduil’s chest. “I’m tired,” he said, his eyes fluttering closed.

“ _Hoda vae_ ,” Thranduil whispered, laying his cheek on the top of Bard’s head. “ _Oltho vae ne fuin hen_.” Using the shroud that he wore, he wrapped it around the sleeping man, and held him until the sun rose the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven used:
> 
> Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen – Great Earth, give strength to this body.  
> An ngell nîn, echuia, mell nin – Please, wake up, my beloved.  
> Melme – love.  
> Hoda vae - rest well.  
> Oltho vae ne fuin hen – May you dream well tonight.
> 
> And yes, I stole Arwen's line and changed it around a bit. 
> 
> Thanks, as usual, to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and comments. I really love those!!
> 
> I spent a lot of time watching Luke sing "Delilah" last night. He is just awesome! Also, I seem to have a strange obsession with Thranduil's neck (or Lee's) especially in the scene when he is looking up at Thorin in Erebor before Bard pulls out the Arkenstone. It is so long and pretty and... So my obsession, is Bard's obsession.
> 
> Speaking of which, I will tell you that the chapter I am working on now, the _really_ good chapter, is taking me longer than I thought it would. Granted, that kind of chapter usually does because I go back and make sure that everything that is supposed to be going on is going on and such. Also, it will be at least twice as long as any other chapter, which is also the norm for me. I thought about splitting it in half, but that would...just...be...mean...


	15. Feel Your Spirit On My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BARDLINGS!! I hope this is cute, like I meant it to be.
> 
> And the thing that Tilda does in this chapter, a friend of mine's child used to do that. So, that is where the inspiration came from. I hope you enjoy!

Bard opened his eyes, gazing around him in confusion. Judging by the intricate carvings, the forest theme, the colors, and just the ambiance of the place, and it was safe for him to assume that he was in the Elvenking’s kingdom. The bed he was in was not only draped in the colors of the sunset, a lot of pillows, and was also the most comfortable thing Bard had ever laid on. Wrapped around him, under the bedclothes, was a thick blanket, fire red satin on one side and a golden pattern on the other. It was soft and warm, and Bard snuggled back into it, closing his eyes once again, not wanting to get up. 

He realized that it wasn’t a blanket, but a shroud, the same one that the Elf King was swathed in the first time they met, and that was also draped over the throne the second time, the last time, he had seen him. Bard took a deep breath, the same intoxicating scent that seemed to surround Thranduil, wafted off the shroud. 

He remembered the forest, and the spiders, and the pain, and then nothing. He wondered how long he had been unconscious.

“Three days.”

Bard pushed the shroud and covers from his face, looking to his right to where the Elf King stood at his bedside. Bard just stared at him. Even after being nearly killed, he was sure by a giant spider, he couldn’t help but stare. Thranduil smiled at him, a warm and genuine smile, and then he did something that Bard would never have expected – he bent down, hand on the bed besides Bard’s head, and kissed him. It was brief, but sound and gentle, and belayed so much: joy, relief, and, dare Bard dream, love.

“How do you feel, _meleth-nin_?” The Elf King said, his mouth just a mere inch from Bard’s. 

With some difficulty, because he was literally wrapped up, he got his hands free. One hand found the elf’s that wasn’t bracing him up, entwining their fingers, and the other cupped the elf’s cheek. 

“Better now,” Bard answered, sincerely. 

Thranduil’s smile widened and then he kissed Bard again, longer this time, deeper, before pulling away. “You need to eat and your children would very much like to see you.”

“My children?” Bard tried to sit up, but his body was rather tangled. Thranduil laughed and began to help him get untangled. “Where are they? Are they _here_?” 

“Yes,” Thranduil answered, tugging, and occasionally slapping at Bard’s hands lightly because he wasn’t really helping at all. “I thought it best if they were here while you recovered instead of away from you and in constant worry. My son has been keeping them occupied. They do enjoy so enjoy the garden.”

“Thank you,” Bard said. 

“You are most welcome, _melme_ ,” the Elf King stated. “It has been a joy having them here. Elves are not blessed with many children, so we delight in their presence when we can. Your children have captivated my people and have given them much joyous laughter these past few days. They are certainly a light in these darkened halls.”

Thranduil’s words brought tears to Bard’s eyes. Tears of happiness and pride. Finally finished freeing the bargeman from the bedclothes, the Elf King helped Bard sit up and then pulled the shroud over his shoulders to keep him warm. He then wiped the tears from Bard’s cheeks with his hand, the other entangling once again with one of Bard’s. 

“Once you are recovered, before you return to Laketown, you and I need to talk,” Thranduil said, leaning his forehead against the bargeman’s. “I owe you an explanation as to why I turned from you that night.” Bard nodded. It was true; there was no sense in denying that. “But for now, I will have food prepared, and I will bring your children to you.” 

“Thank you,” Bard whispered, taking a deep breath and letting it out. His shoulder ached, but not as much as he thought it should, and in spite of everything, he did feel quite well. He chuckled, breathing in the scent of the elf, and just enjoying a few brief moments being not only this near, but that they were both clearly of the same mind in all this. Thranduil moved, leaning back slightly before kissing him again, and then standing. Their fingers stayed entwined for as long as they both could reach, and then Thranduil was gone.

Bard took the goblet of water from the bedside table, sipping it slowly, finding it cool, and refreshing, so different from the water in Laketown. 

Moments later, he heard feet running down the stairs to his left, and the squeal of his daughter, Sigrid, when she saw him. Bain followed immediately after, and both jumped on the bed, crawling over, and wrapping their arms around their father.

“You’re awake,” Sigrid said tearfully.

Bard laughed, holding his children tightly. “I am sorry to have worried you.”

“We knew you would be all right,” Bain chimed in. “King Thranduil said so.”

“Yes, well, he would know, wouldn’t he?” Bard kissed both of his children on the tops of their heads, and then paused. He only counted two, and there were three. “Where is Tilda?”

At that instant, Thranduil came to the foot of the steps and toward the bed. And, in his arms, was Tilda, carried on his hip, her little hands wrapped around his collar. 

“Da,” she exclaimed, waving her little hand at him. Then she did two things that made Bard not only cringe, but gasp in alarm and shock. She wrapped the hand that she had waved around a handful of the Elf King’s hair and then…she began to chew on said hair.

“Tilda, stop that!” Bard said in shock. Sigrid and Bain began to laugh uncontrollably, rolling around on the bed around their father. Tilda gave her father a look that could be considered exasperation, if she weren’t so young.

“Relax, Bard,” Thranduil said, amusement clear on his features and in his voice. “She is doing no harm” He turned his gaze to Tilda who giggled as Thranduil touched her nose with a fingertip. “She has been trying to devour my hair for the past two days.” He walked around the bed, reached up, and pulled his hair, and it fell from Tilda’s mouth and fingers without grievance to either of them. He then handed the wiggling and giggling little girl to her father. “See, no harm.” His hair was perfect as if nothing had happened. “Food will be brought shortly.” And with that, he sashayed out of the room, leaving Bard with his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone!!
> 
> Also, just a note, I have to get my job done, so luckily I am several chapters ahead and still writing, but I may not be updating but once a week now. I have a novel to edit and a webpage to redo for the author of the novel, my very good and bestest friend, so I have to concentrate (mostly) on that. But I will update regularly and will still keep on writing. I promise. 
> 
> BTW, with all the stuff I want to write for this fic, it could end up being 40 chapters. Sorry? Is that a bad thing?
> 
> OH! And Happy Birthday to Luke Evans!!


	16. My World Is Where You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I said I would only be posting once a week, but I am shirking my editing duties, and still writing. Anyway, I feel the need to write a Modern AU about these two, but I can't get past the first chapter. Any ideas, or requests, would be much appreciated and welcome. Thank you!

Bard and his children sat on the bed, eating a ridiculous amount of food. There were all kinds of breads, cheeses, crackers, fruits, vegetables, and meat. Bard had always believed that all elves never ate meat, but the elves of Mirkwood certainly did. The meats were thinly sliced and when paired with cheese on bread, along with this really delicious spread, it was absolutely the best thing Bard had ever eaten.

And the fact that they ate _on the bed_ made Bard extremely nervous. This was the king’s bed, in the king’s chambers, and the bargeman’s children were not only eating in it, but also jumping on it, much to their father’s chagrin. Thranduil, however, didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“They are not harming anything,” he assured Bard upon seeing the look of utter mortification on his face. “Truly. Stop worrying.”

When everyone was full of food (Bard couldn’t remember having eaten so much in his life), and the children were winding down, Thranduil motioned to Sigrid and Bain.

“Come along, children,” he said as he carefully picked up the all ready asleep Tilda, miraculously without waking her up, “your father needs to rest and so do you.”

There was very little grumbling and stalling, another surprise to Bard, and after hugging him good night and receiving kisses to their foreheads, they ran up the stairs ahead of the Elf King.

“I’ll see that they are tucked in and then I will return,” he said with a gentle smile before following Bain and Sigrid up the stairs and out of sight, Tilda still asleep in his arms.

Bard could not help the smile that broke out on his face. Here he and his children were in the Elvenking’s fabled halls, eating and laughing, not a care in the world. And on top of all that, he was seeing a side to the Elf King that he never in his wildest dreams thought he would be witnessing, and he doubted that anyone else would have that it either. A gentle side, one that tucked Bard’s children into bed, allowed Tilda to chew on his hair, and carried her around as if she were his own. Bard shook his head. Thranduil treated all three of them like they were his own. It warmed their father’s heart, and he couldn’t help but be glad. Whatever this was between him and the Elf King, and whatever it came to be, he was sure his children wouldn’t disapprove.

He discovered that the shroud he was wrapped up in actually had armholes, so he slid them through, and threw the bed sheets off. He had no idea where his clothing was, and he was only in his short clothes, so he wrapped the shroud around himself, and got out of the bed. 

He hadn’t been on his feet in days, so he was a bit wobbly, his legs weak, but he managed to step out of the area where the bed was, and, putting a hand out to steady himself, he gazed about the rest of the king’s chambers.

For a king, it was sparsely furnished. There were a few tables, a bench, and a pool of water nearly directly across from the bed. Moonlight shown in from the ceiling, branches entwined with glass. There were braziers and candles lit, and the air was full of the scent of spring, even though winter was fast approaching.

“Should you be doing that?” Thranduil stepped into the room, gliding toward Bard.

“I felt the need to move,” Bard stated with a smile. 

Thranduil took Bard’s face in his hands, his silver-blue eyes gazing into Bard’s eyes. “ _Hin lín bain sui Ithilgalad buin Aear,_ ” Thranduil stated. “ _Ci bain sui I Anor._ ”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Bard said with a laugh, “but it was beautiful just the same.”

“I said ‘your eyes are as beautiful as the moon on the sea’,” Thranduil whispered, his thumbs stroking Bard’s cheekbones, the very tip of them brushing across his bottom eyelashes. “And that you are as beautiful as the stars.”

Bard wanted to scoff at that, but instead he just shook his head slightly. “I am not the one in this room to whom the stars and moon compare, and even they pale in comparison to you.”

And then the Elf King was kissing him, soft, slow, and gentle, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, Bard wouldn’t even try denying it, but it also infused his body with heat and energy, and he wanted more. He brought his hands to the Elf King’s hips, using the leverage to pull his body closer to him, deepening the kiss at the same time by parting his lips. He moaned when Thranduil’s tongue glided along his, and he didn’t put up a fight at all. He just let the Elvenking have his way, but then he was pulling away.

“Not again,” Bard said with much conviction, and he held onto the elf, trying to pull him back.

“Wait,” Thranduil implored softly, and Bard stilled. “Before this goes any farther, I must explain myself to you, for the night I turned you away.”

Bard was so tempted to tell him no explanation was needed, but he saw in Thranduil’s eyes a sadness and with it the need to explain, so Bard nodded.

Thranduil smiled, and took one of Bard’s hands. “Come with me,” he said and Bard nodded again. Thranduil let him, hand in hand, up the stairs and down several hallways, seemingly void of other elves. It took only a few minutes, but they finally came to a large archway that led out into an open area surrounded by tall trees, the canopy so thick that the sky could not be seen, and in the center of the clearing was a most magnificent sight.

“Is that a Red Hart?” Bard asked, stunned. The creature was nearly as tall as he was at the withers, with gentle eyes, and antlers that stretched out on either side of its head five feet on each side. It was a truly magnificent animal.

Thranduil hummed in response. “I have raised him since he came into the world. Hand fed him, regimented with the wisdom of my people, but until yesterday I had never thought to give him a name.”

“What happened yesterday?” Bard’s hand was clasped tightly with the elf’s still as they both stood before the proud animal.

“Your children,” Thranduil answered with a chuckle. “Sigrid and Bain discussed it at great length and finally decided on ‘Alard’.”

“Noble and steadfast,” Bard said, nodding.

Thranduil guided Bard closer to the large elk, placing both their hands on its muzzle. “I think he likes it.” He sighed deeply, releasing the air slowly, and then released Bard’s hand, his fingers sliding free, leaving the bargeman’s hand on the elk’s face. Bard knew what was coming, and he wondered if he should be worried that all he wished for, and he was sure the Elf King wished for too, was going to end right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone!! You guys are awesome, especially for putting up with me. 
> 
> Also, I know that Thranduil's elk is supposed to be based on the Irish Deer, but I used Red Hart instead. It is one of the mounts in one of the games I play, and it is a very large animal, though the antlers are different, but I used it's name anyway.


	17. Take My Heart and Make It Strong

Thranduil moved to where the Elk was blocking him from Bard’s view, so the bargeman remained where he was, letting the Elf King do this the way he wanted.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, Thranduil began to speak.

“After my son was born, his mother began to change. She became despondent. I could not figure out why, so I would ask her, but she didn’t have the answer either. She always had a restless soul, as does her son. She wanted to see everything and experience all this world had to offer, but she put aside all of that to become my wife. I think there was a part of her that resented me for that.” He sighed deeply before continuing. “She couldn’t even hold our son, couldn’t look at him. So, I took it upon myself to raise him. She would just stay in the garden and weep, while our son grew. Finally, one day, I went to find her in the garden, and she was gone.

“I searched for her, sent my people to search for her, even as far as Rivendale, but no one could find her. Finally, in my desperation, I ventured to Gundabad, the stronghold of the orcs, and there I found her. She had died fighting the orcs. I was so distraught, but yet so angry with her. I carried her body back to the border of my lands and buried her under a large tree. I never spoke of it to anyone, not even Legolas. It told him that she died protecting our home and that was all. I haven’t even told him where his mother is buried. I didn’t want him to think that she hadn’t cared, that she hadn’t loved him enough to stay with him.” 

Bard stepped sideways until he could see Thranduil. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered sincerely. 

Thranduil met Bard’s eyes. “The reason I am telling this is because after she was gone, I shut myself off from everything. I closed the borders of this land and I stopped caring what happened outside of it. I didn’t care anymore. And I believed that I had done something wrong and that I didn’t deserve to feel anything, especially happiness, anymore. And then you came.” He came a few steps closer to Bard. “You were like the dawn, shining through the darkness. For once in so very long, I could _feel_. I fought against it, but it was too late. It was as if my heart began to beat again. I see you and I see hope, strength, and love. And I found that I wanted that again.” His eyes were wet with unshed tears. Bard’s were flowing freely. “I know that this will only bring me more heartbreak in the future, but I would rather face that, than the lament not allowing myself this with you. I don’t want to squander another moment of my life and without you in it, that is what I would be doing. If you would allow me.”

Bard closed the distance between them in just a few quick steps, wrapping his arms around him, holding him tightly. Thranduil did the same and they stood there for an indiscernible amount of time in silence, just taking everything in.

Finally, Bard broke the silence. “Everything I am, every part of me, is yours, but most importantly, my heart. I would spend every breath I have with you, for you, because of you. I am not what I thought I would be, but what I am, you can have.”

Thranduil drew back, a smile on his face, but more importantly, his eyes were bright and full of warmth, happiness, and love. He kissed Bard again, passionately, until the bargeman’s need to breath forced them apart.

The elk snorted loudly, kicking its back leg out, and shaking its head. Though the huge antlers were not all that close, Bard still moved out of the way.

“I think he is tired of us,” Thranduil chuckled. With one last pat to the beast’s flank, he led Bard out of the clearing.

_______________________________________

Thranduil took him to where his children were sleeping, all three tucked into bed. Bard watched them for a few moments, a smile on his face. He truly was a lucky man to have such beautiful and wonderful children. Their mother would be so proud, just as proud as he was.

Then they returned to Thranduil’s chambers and as much as Bard would have liked to continue what they had begun in the clearing, he was still too weak. His legs shook, so badly that Thranduil had to help him down the stairs, and his shoulder had began to hurt. Not only that, but his stomach felt queasy, a side effect from the spider’s venom, so instead, he got into bed, still wrapped in the shroud. The Elf King left him for a short time, checking in with his son and Captain, before returning and climbing into the bed also. He pulled Bard into his arms, moved them around until he was convinced that the bargeman was comfortable, and then they talked until Bard fell asleep.

They spoke of their wives, Bard telling how his had lost her life bringing Tilda into the world. She had already been sick, Pneumonia the healer had said, and had been bed ridden for the last week until Tilda was born.

“She held on just long enough,” Bard said softly, his head resting on the Elvenking’s stomach as Thranduil sat leaning against the headboard. “She held Tilda, and it was as if she knew. She asked me to take her, I did so, and I turned to get another blanket to wrap it her up in because it was so cold that night, the water icing over. When I turned back, she was gone.” 

Thranduil stroked his hair and back in comfort. They both had lost the one they had thought they would share the rest of their lives with and both knew that no matter the feelings they had for one another; neither could replace the loves they had both lost. They were not replacing one love for another. They both were starting over, a whole new life of feelings. It was a new beginning for both of them, something neither of them had thought would ever happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all.
> 
> The idea about Thranduil's wife, I got from a barduil tumblr site. I must admit, I don't remember which one, and I haven't had the time to go back and look. If it is yours, THANK YOU for the idea. If you know whose site it was, THANK them for me.  
>  And about Bard's wife, I made up. 
> 
> BTW, I messed up. Not only do I have Barduil in my head, but for some reason I was trying to think of an AU, and now I have Luke in my head, but not with a character or person that makes any sense even to me, and it is bouncing around in my head. Many of you won't even know this character, from a game, a very old game that I still love. Anyway, nothing will ever come of it, I will never write the pairing, but it is intriguing to think about, but...oh well.


	18. This Taste of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late posting.

Bard woke up in a position very different from the one he had gone to sleep in.

His head was on a pillow, half his face buried in it, and he was pretty sure he was slobbering because his mouth was open. He raised his head up, freed a hand, and wiped the side of his mouth. He was still wrapped up in the shroud, and the bedclothes had been laid over him. 

He turned over on his back and sat up. He was alone in the room and the sun was high in the sky, nearly noon if he had to guess. The rays of sunlight danced about the room, tiny particles dancing in the air. Bard threw the covers off, stood, wrapping the shroud around him for it was a little bit cold, and then stopped.

He really had no idea what to do or where to go. He was wearing the shroud that Thranduil draped over his throne, and little else. His clothing was nowhere to be seen and he had no boots or anything to cover his feet. 

He sat down on the foot of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. He remembered falling asleep in Thranduil’s arms, the sound of his heart beating in his ear. He had felt safe and secure, and it was strange because he didn’t know he needed to feel either. He was the one who his children looked to for safety and security, and he was used to being that person, but experiencing it himself had made him feel calm and loved.

They had talked, and that had made everything even clearer. He knew his wife would want him to be happy and he could just imagine her laughing and teasing him about his choice not only being an elf, but a king no less. The thought made him smile. He knew she would approve. She would also know that he didn’t take something like this likely, didn’t do something just for the sake of doing it. 

His gaze landed on the pool of water and he stared at it longingly. His body felt rough, unclean, as did his hair.

“Go ahead,” came Thranduil’s voice from the stairwell. He glided toward Bard, dressed as he had been both times Bard had seen him at his throne, the crown upon his head, and looking imposing. But the Elf King was smiling as he sat down next to Bard, kissing him lightly. “Be my guest. There are soaps and towels over there in that cupboard. Your children are in the garden, playing. Once you are through, I thought you could join us for lunch there.”

“Am I to wear this all the time or go naked?” Bard asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, I would like the shroud back and while I would prefer the latter, I do not think your children would, so I will get your clothes.” He made a show of seeming rather reluctant as he crossed the room to a large armoire; one Bard wouldn’t have even guessed was there as it was carved into the wall. Thranduil produced his clothing, clean and repaired, setting them on the bed next to the bargeman. “Tauriel told me how capable you are with a bow. It takes much to impress her but she sings your praises.”

Bard knew that praise for his archery skills from a Woodland Elf was high praise indeed. He found himself actually blushing a little. “Well, I do what I can.”

Thranduil laughed, a sound Bard decided that he loved and would love to hear more of. He sat down by Bard again and ran the knuckles of one hand over Bard’s cheek. “ _Nin lithiach,_ ” he whispered. 

Bard smiled, shaking his head, and then he reached up and felt his own face. “I know elves don’t have to worry about such things, but I think I need to shave.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Thranduil said, standing, and going to the stairs. He motioned to the pool of water. “Bathe. Your children are waiting.”

Bard chuckled as the Elf King left, and then went to check out the soaps and get a few towels.

______________________________

He knew he had to hurry, but the water felt so good, not too cold, not too hot, and the soap he had chosen, after sifting through the many, was of a soothing scent. Leaning back, a towel pillowing his head, arms stretched out over the sides of the, and he was so comfortable, he easily could have gone back to sleep.

“I see you are enjoying the bath,” Thranduil said from somewhere behind him.

“Aye,” Bard stated with a vigorous nod. “This is much better and easier than hauling buckets of water up, heating them, then pouring them into a tub in the middle of your home. Water never stays hot for very long.”

He heard Thranduil chuckle and then felt hands in his hair, slender fingers running through, gently working out any tangles. “I see the implement I gave you did the trick.”

“A very nice razor it was.” Thranduil had brought him a straight razor, one with a pearl handle. He had handed it over with a shrug. He said he honestly couldn’t remember where he had gotten it and why. 

“You can keep it,” Thranduil said, apparently happy that Bard’s hair was tangle free. His hands shifted to his shoulders and began messaging them.

Bard opened his eyes, looking directly up into the elf’s face when he did and he realized that Thranduil had to be sitting on the floor behind him. In his very expensive looking clothing and crown, no less. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Thranduil laughed, paying extra care to the shoulder the spider had bit Bard on. The skin had returned to a normal color and the mark was barely visible. “What need do I have for it?”

As Thranduil continued kneading Bard’s shoulders and neck, the bargeman remembered that he was naked and that, while relaxing, the elf’s hands on him were making him think of other things, other uses of said hands, and where he would like to feel them touching him.

“Later,” Thranduil whispered in his ear. There was no doubt in Bard’s mind that the Elf King was a mind reader. “Now, hurry. Your children are hungry.” He stood in one graceful movement, taking another one of the towels Bard had set out next to the pool as he did so, and held it out after unfolding it. “Come on.”

Bard conceded, not wanting to keep his children waiting, and stood in the tub. Turning he stepped up into the towel which Thranduil wrapped around him and began drying him off.

“I can do that myself,” Bard said, trying not to smile. He wasn’t complaining. It felt wonderful. Perhaps a little too much.

Thranduil stepped closer, rubbing Bard’s back with the towel. “Are you sure?”

“I think it best, considering I am supposed to hurry,” Bard answered. Certain parts of his body were responding very enthusiastically.

Thranduil leaned forward and kissed him, which didn’t help matters at all. When he pulled away, he took a step back. “Very well. I’ll be back in a few moments to take you to the garden.” He turned his back to Bard, going toward the stairs, and just as he did, the towel he had wrapped around Bard fell into a pile at the bargeman’s feet. Thranduil paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder, his eyes slowly raking over Bard from head to toe before returning to his eyes. Bard blushed, why he didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t because all his blood was rushing to his face. Quite the opposite. “Best take care of that and get dressed.” Clasping his hands behind his back, the Elf King ascended the stairs, all dignity and grace, leaving Bard the complete opposite.


	19. Sweet Temptation Rush All Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I am way too busy.

Thranduil sat in his chair at the head of the table, a glass of wine in his hand, moving it back and forth lazily in the air. He sat watching Bard and his children, laughing, chatting, and this made him smile also. The closeness and the love the four of them shared was a wonderful and beautiful thing to witness. It made the Elf King both happy and sad to see it. Happy to be a part of it all, to watch them, and to feel the love they shared as a family. Bard doted on his children, sacrificed of himself for them, and went without just they would have enough. Their love showed in their eyes, like a bright flame.

It made him sad because he had never had this. Of course, he loved his son and always would, and they’d had moments when Legolas was younger, when Thranduil used to carry his son through the woods, pointing out the birds and insects, animals and flowers. And at night, charting the stars and singing lullabies. When Legolas used to sit in his lap and look up at him with love and admiration, asking all sorts of questions, and laughing. 

But those days were long gone now, and even though Legolas treated him with respect, but it leaned more toward the respect of one’s king and not father. There was a wedge between them, seldom seen, but it was there, and Thranduil knew the reasons why. He just didn’t know what to do to make it better. 

He’d had the table and chairs moved into the garden. It was peaceful here and the children loved it. The flowers were in full bloom all year around, birds singing in the trees, and butterflies fluttering. There were hummingbirds flitting back and forth amongst the honeysuckle and even a few squirrels playing chase in the canopy overhead. The children spent much of their days in the King’s Hall here: smelling the flowers, watching the birds, giggling as butterflies landed on their heads or hands. 

It had taken them some time to find something suitable for Tilda to sit on in her appointed chair and be able to reach the table. Eventually, a crate had been found and a pillow placed on top of it. Bard has been afraid she would fall off, but she bounced about happily, never tethering. 

Soon, as much as Thranduil enjoyed watching the children and listening to them laugh, his attention turned solely onto their father. Bard was attractive, the Elf King wouldn’t even think about arguing with that. Many elves considered humans lesser – less intelligent, less attractive and not worth their time, and while Thranduil agreed with that in general, Bard was the exception. And it wasn’t just on the outside, but the inside, how he carried himself, and didn’t pretend to be something that he wasn’t. What you saw was what you got, that was what one of the things so admirable about the Man.

Bard glanced up, allowing his eyes to meet Thranduil’s and there was no shyness there. The look in his eyes was bold and imploring. He didn’t even try to hide the desire that flared within, didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t contemplating the same thing that Thranduil was.

Thranduil took a sip of his wine, tilting his head up slightly, eyes still locked onto Bard’s. He watched as the bargeman’s eyes drifted lower, watching his throat when he swallowed, and Bard’s eyes darkened with yearning, trailing back up to meet silver-blue. Thranduil drew in a hissing breath through his teeth, heat beginning a slow simmer in his blood, 

“Children, why don’t you go ask my son to take you to see the horses. Your father needs his rest.”

Sigrid took her sister, and all three children hugged their father. Then they trotted to the other end of the table, where Thranduil sat, and proceeded to hug him also before scampering off to find the elf prince. Bard laughed at the look on the Elf King’s face, it was one of gladness, but also surprise.

“They are taking to you,” Bard stated, taking a drink of water.

Thranduil stared after them, fondness in his eyes and smile. “I believe I have taken to them as well,” he said. 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Bard stood to his feet, his sudden movement turning Thranduil’s attention to him. “I thought I needed rest,” Bard stated, one eyebrow quirking up playfully.

Thranduil hummed, his smile growing wide. “Eventually.”

Bard visibly shivered. “Are we going now? Because I _really_ need to rest. _Now!_ ”

Thranduil stood, gracefully as ever, as Bard pretty much did everything short of tossing his chair across the room and running back to the Elf King’s chambers. He didn’t though, because he knew he would just get lost, and nothing spoils the mood like getting lost.

Bard followed Thranduil, and was very proud of himself for his calm demeanor because inside he was a funnel cloud of emotions. He couldn’t believe that only a short while ago, he was just a lowly bargeman delivering wine and taking away empty barrels for a faceless Elven King. And now he was following that same Elven King through his halls and to his chambers.

What amazed Bard was how easy this all was for him. He knew where they were going, and what was going to happen when he got there, but he wasn’t the slightest bit apprehensive or nervous. Granted, he just had an idea what was going to happen, it was fairly easy for one to guess even though he had no firsthand knowledge of the act personally, but he would be a fool if he couldn’t figure it out. No, all he felt was want, need, and eagerness. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in an intimate way. It had been a long time since he had wanted anyone to do so. And as long as it had been for him, just a few years really (though it felt as if it were so much longer), it had been centuries for Thranduil, and that gave Bard a certain amount of pride for making the Elf King want to break that long, self-imposed celibacy.   
There was a small part of him that was thinking this wasn’t real or that it was happening too fast, or he was dreaming. But he knew all of that was untrue. He knew it was real, and that it wasn’t a dream, and he also knew beyond shadow of a doubt that it was going to happen.

He just wished the elf would walk faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for not only reading, commenting, and leaving kudos, but for their patience. My dear friend, Susanne, who is up to her eyeballs in conventions and Comic Cons all over the country, beat me upside the head until I started working on my novel(s) again. I stopped writing them to write fanfiction, so now I am doing both plus editing and spending too much time playing video games. I am hung up on Dragon Age now, starting them over again for the 5th time. So, anyway, I know no one is interested, but I was just explaining why it is taking me so long to update. The next chapter will be the "good" chapter, and I have been going back over it, working on it here and there. *sigh*. I will hurry, I promise.


	20. Pour Yourself Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, let me just say I feel like such an ass for not getting this done sooner. What's it been, since March or something. I feel reallly, _really_ bad about that. I am so sorry. So, without further ado, I hope it was worth the wait. And sorry for any mistakes.

“I’m okay,” Bard said.

“I know.”

“I feel fine.”

“I know.”

A deep sigh. “I’ve never done this before. Not like this. Not with –“

“I know that also.” 

Bard shook his head. “I just wish you would _hurry up_.” Bard huffed. 

Thranduil laughed, genuinely laughed, setting his crown in its place before turning to the bargeman. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“That’s not the word I would use,” Bard admitted. He was on fire, burning from the inside out, his heart beating as if it would burst from his chest at any moment. “You’re driving me insane.”

“And you think you are not doing the same to me?”

“We’re going to make a habit of this,” Bard stated with conviction. 

“We haven’t done anything yet,” Thranduil answered, his steps measured as he approached the bargeman.

“But we are going to and we’re going to make a habit of it.” He’d apparently had enough with waiting, because he closed the distance between them quickly, his hands burying in the elf’s hair a little roughly, as he pulled Thranduil into a kiss that left no doubt to his words and how much he wanted him.

Thranduil offered no resistance and he didn’t mind Bard’s aggressiveness. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. Most saw elves as fragile, and that was a mistake most learned to regret. It was satisfying that Bard did not suffer from that illusion, that he didn’t handle Thranduil as if he was a delicate piece of glass.

Bard pulled back, the need to breathe not able to be ignored for long, so he took the time to let his coat drop to the floor and to tow off his boots. Thranduil watched with amusement, just as eager, but age brought wisdom and patience. He was certainly enjoying watching Bard divest himself of his clothing.

Bard noticed this and froze. “Am I going to do this by myself and you just watch?”

“That is a very interesting idea,” Thranduil admitted with mock thoughtfulness.

“Later, I will do whatever you want me to.” He shrugged. “Really. If that is what you want, then fine, I’ll do it, but right now, I would appreciate your _input_. Literally.”

“You are a treasure,” Thranduil purred, the look on his face becoming predatory. 

That was what Bard was waiting for. The Elf King was looking at him as if he was his next meal and Bard didn’t mind that at all. Made his knees tremble and made him ever harder than he all ready had been.

“Come on,” Bard urged, urging the elf on by giving a “come here” motion with a finger. 

Thranduil reached up and removed the brooch from the center of his chest, setting it aside also. Then he began to work on the clasps to his clothing. Bard could only stare, licking his lips slowly, and trying to remember to remind himself to breathe, as he watched every inch of flawless skin revealed.

“We’re going to take this slow,” Thranduil explained, letting his clothing drop to the floor piece by piece. “You have never done this before and it is has been some time since I have, but I have not forgotten. I don’t want to hurt you or make this unpleasant for you in any way, no matter how much you insist or persist, I will not be rushed.”

Bard nodded, swallowing hard. He really didn’t know how much more of this he could take, but he also knew the Elf King meant what he said, and that there wasn’t much Bard could do to change his mind in this.

If he had thought that Thranduil was beautiful and perfect in his royal finery and crown, then he was absolutely mind numbing without it all. Seemingly endless plains of alabaster stretched over wiry muscles, without scar or blemish, smooth and shimmering. Every inch of him was idyllic. It made Bard feel a little insecure. His body was wrought from work, skin toughed by the sun and cold wind, calloused and scarred. A splattering of hair went from the middle over his chest, partially over his pectorals, down his stomach to his naval. From there, a line of dark hair that disappeared below the waistband of his small clothes, and on down. Not a thick covering of hair, certainly not compared to other Men, he was sure, but compared to not having body hair at all, like the elf, he made him wonder if it was a good thing or bad thing. As if somehow it made him less attractive.

“No,” Thranduil said, running the fingers of one hand from the center of Bard’s chest down to the waistband of his small clothes. “Not in the slightest bit. In fact, I find it rather… _appealing_.”

His fingers trailed down lower, ghosting over the bulge straining there, and Bard gasped loudly at the contact, hardness straining to be freed, wanting more than just that little bit of touch. 

Thranduil’s fingers slid between the waistband and Bard’s flesh and used that to guide him to the bed. Once there, the elf sat down, pulling the bargeman to stand between his spread thighs, and as he pulled the waistband down over Bard’s hips and then thighs, freeing his erection, his lips, tongue, and teeth began to tease his naval, even delving in with his tongue and sucking on the area. Bard had to grip his shoulders or he was going to fall over, his knees and legs were shaking so badly. He managed to kick his small clothes away from his feet without stumbling all over. The elf then proceeded to rub his check against the leaking head of the bargeman’s cock, before sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it. The action left a trail of precum over his left cheek that disappeared into the oh-so-talented mouth. Even in his passion-clouded mind, some part of Bard wanted to wipe it away, as if it were an affront to the Elvenking being left there, but then again, leaving it there was a debauchery only more erotic. 

Thranduil pulled back, letting Bard’s cock slide from his mouth. The bargeman whined at the loss of sensation, digging his fingers into the elf’s shoulders. Thranduil chuckled, grabbing Bard by his upper thighs, and pulled him forward until he settled his knees on either side of the elf, and straddled his lap. That created a whole new sensation as his cockhead began to rub against the very soft but also very firm skin of Thranduil’s stomach.

“How –” Thranduil began, but he never got to finish the sentence as Bard attacked his mouth, kissing him deeply and passionately. Tongues dueling, bodies flush together, until the elf broke away enough to finish asking his question. “How do you want me to take you?”

Bard’s entire body shook with desire, as if a tremor had just raced through him from head to toe. The only problem was, he really didn’t know. “I … I don’t know. Whichever way you think is best.”

Thranduil kissed him again, and as he did, he moved both of them until Bard was flat on his back on the bed. Thranduil’s lips left his and began kissing a trail along his jaw to his ear. “The sensible thing to do, since you are a virgin when it comes to this, would be to put you on your stomach. It would be easier for you that way, but I really want to watch your face, look into your eyes, while I am inside of you.”

Bard shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, or he was going to lose it completely. This was maddening, a good maddening, but it had been such a long time, and his body was responding as his brain was shutting down. All he could do was nod his agreement. Thranduil’s lips kissed the center of his chest and he was murmuring in elven, and that wasn’t helping Bard at all. His body was still shaking, his skin slick with sweat. It was as if tiny little bugs of fire were running through his veins, pressing against his skin. He didn’t want it end, but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it.

Those lips traveled over his chest, leaving feather light kisses on his skin, until his evil torturer decided to start using his tongue. Tracing over his chest, over his nipples, which made Bard gasp loudly and arch (he _arched_ \-- he had never arched before), his hands flying up and burying in that silver-gold hair again, pulling on it harder than he should have. But Thranduil only chuckled and kept to his appointed task. 

“You’re a bastard,” Bard said, his voice strained. “An utter bastard!”

“Do you want me to stop?” His tone of voice was almost _innocent_ as if he wasn’t doing anything.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Bard breathed. “Of course not! Don’t you dare!”

That laugh again and then those lips began to travel down, over Bard’s stomach, his naval. Bard’s muscles quivered beneath his skin. Bard could feel the elf’s teeth and tongue, and he knew there would be marks left on his skin tomorrow. Physical reminders of this night, ones he all ready knew he would never want to fade.

Thranduil stopped and crawled back up, grabbed Bard’s thighs, raising his legs up and out, settled on his knees between the Man’s legs, and then rested Bard’s legs to his sides. Bard began to squirm again. “I’m sorry, love. Do you want me to relieve you of this?” He wrapped a slender-fingered hand around the bargeman’s throbbing flesh, stroking slowly, making sure to rub the glistening head against his own naval, leaving streaks of precum on his skin. Bard was painfully hard and any contact helped relieve that pressure. The elf watched him closely through half-lidded eyes, head tilted to the side. 

“Yes! Please! Just do something!” Bard was beyond rational thought, beyond self-control, beyond caring about anything but desires carnal and the elf that was providing that. 

“This will be uncomfortable at first,” Thranduil was saying to him. “Just relax and I will take care of you.”

What snaps Bard back to some semblance of reality is the intrusion. It is quick and, as the elf had promised, uncomfortable, but Bard knows that he has to adjust. If this torment is going to end, he has to not only trust that Thranduil knows what he is doing, but how is the best way for it to happen, and even to his addled brain, the bargeman knows that this is necessary.

It is one and then two, and the stretch is becoming not only more bearable, but also more pleasant. Mainly because he is now imagining what it will feel like to have the elf inside of him, something he has only experienced from the other side of things, with the woman that loved him, but he could never know with her what that felt like, to be filled and claimed, to be so intimately _taken_. By the third, he was begging again, and then one of those long fingers that had been stretching him, preparing him, brushed against something inside of him and he saw stars as his body arched again, hands fisted in the bedclothes, and cried out in pleasure.

“You are so… _delectable_ ,” Thranduil stated in a low, sensuous voice that was nearly as maddening as what he was doing to Bard. With that, the fingers withdrew, and Bard would have been embarrassed at the less than manly whine that issued forth at the loss, if he had cared and been within reason. He began a mantra of “ _please, please, please,_ and the Elvenking must have taken pity on him, because in the next moment the blunt head of the Elf King’s cock was pressed against his opening and pushed in, very slowly and with great care, until just the head was inside. 

“Look at me,” the Elf King whispered, bending down to where his lips were just mere inches from Bard’s own. Bard opened his eyes, dazed as they were, and gazed into the elf’s eyes. They had this hypnotizing quality about them, too blue to be true, the color of the sky and seeming to have the depths of that space enclosed in them. Thranduil was speaking to him in elven, softly spoken words that he could not understand, but could still _feel_ , humming through him, following along with the blood in his veins, and reaching every part of him to his very depths.

“Thranduil,” Bard gasped, too far gone to think of how easily the Elf King’s name fell from his lips. He felt as he was floating, falling _up_ into the pools of perfect blue sky above him.

And then the spell was broken. And it was sudden, but so as to be cruel in his returning to reality, or shocking to his being in the slightest. It was just as if one minute he was as light as a cloud and in the next he was back on the bed, and in an instant he understood the power the elf had exerted for his benefit, because not only was there no discomfort to him at all, but Bard realized that the elf was fully and completely sheathed inside of him.

“Oh,” he breathes out slowly. Sneaky elf. Wonderful elf. “This is incredible.” He whispers hoarse.

“It is truly,” the elf whispers back and for a mere moment, a glimpse so fleeting Bard could easily doubt he had actually seen it, the mask falls and there is so much more there: pain and regret, thankfulness and happiness, affection and warmth. If Bard had _actually_ seen those emotions for that blink of a moment, then he would have been moved to tears from the beauty of it.

But then the elf begins to move, and all the bargeman’s thoughts fly away from him, out beyond the blue sky, into the stars above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this chapter isn't a let down after such a long wait. I kept opening the chapter up and reading it and just couldn't get my brain to work and then finally, when I put fingers to keys again, it took just another page or so and then I was done. I know I am a shitty beeatcha for stopping it there, but it just felt like that was the right place to. I will write more. Honest. I haven't forgotten the plans I had for this fic so very long ago. Thanks to everyone for reading and being patient with me!!


	21. You Follow Me From the Inside

“Do we have to go?”

It was a question Bard had heard several dozen times since his children had awoke that morning. They drug themselves from their beds, dragged their feet, and did everything at such a slow place, all in the name of protest for having to leave the secluded and peaceful kingdom of the Elf King.

All during breakfast it had been the same thing. They ate, slowly, but they couldn’t resist the food the elves made for them, so at least Bard didn’t have to worry about them refusing to eat, but what he did have to content with was his son and daughter whining and even crying as they ate. 

Thranduil watched them with thinly veiled amusement, though Bard knew him well enough to see the sadness in his eyes and when their eyes met across the table, he knew the Elven King could see that sadness reflected as well. But both knew that leaving was something that Bard and his family had to do, no matter how painful it was for all involved. 

And as children, Sigrid and Bain found it hard to understand exactly _why_ they had to leave. To them, there were no reasons at all as to why they had to return to their small house in Laketown.

“It smells like fish,” the children grumbled. And it was true – Laketown did smell like fish, but then again, it was a town, on the lake, and fish was pretty much the main stable of their diet.

“We don’t have a garden!” Was another complaint. Of course they didn’t. It was a town built onto a lake. No room for such a fancy thing as a garden. Though, in Bard’s opinion, it would have improved things greatly.

“The food, Da! The food!” That one, Bard had no excuse to counteract.

Bard would miss a great many things about the Elf King’s home. And there were certain things that his children not only didn’t know about, but wouldn’t understand if they did. How could he even begin to explain how, in the time since their dear mother had been gone, he came to find himself enamored ( was that truly the right word for his state of mind – his state of _being_ ) with King of the Woodland Realm. A very _male_ being at that? How would his children understand that? Even if they were older, would they even try to?

While his children were oblivious to his relationship with Thranduil, the king’s eleven people didn’t seem to be or to care at all that their beloved ruler was engaging in things carnal with a mortal man, especially one such as Bard. The bargeman was no fool. He knew his appeal to the Elven King was a confusing thought he could not understand himself. He was ill-kept, poor, and, though he was an intelligent man, the things he knew compared to the things Thranduil knew were as a rain drop to a pond. He couldn’t understand why Thranduil seemed so captivated with him, so willing to bed him, and to actually show caring and enjoyment in his company and not just the wanton hours between sheets that were more finely made than anything Bard could ever hope to afford. 

No, they spent hours talking, conversing, learning from one another. What Bard knew of the stars was not what Thranduil did, but the Elf King was enthralled as Bard explained their meaning to him and what he had been taught. He was always enrapt by the things Thranduil knew and told him about, weaving magic like it was art, showing Bard things that were so vivid to him it was as if he had been there himself alongside Thranduil.

And leaving was difficult, aside from the grief the children were bombarding him with. It was difficult for Bard to justify the reasons for leaving himself, but he knew he must. Thranduil had asked him to not only continue his task of bringing the wine as he had been, but also other commodities set to be delivered special for the elves. Bard couldn’t do that job from the Elven Kingdom, so returning to Laketown, while bittersweet, was a necessity. It was a great amount of trust that Thranduil was placing on him, along with a great many other things, and Bard did not want to disappoint.

After breakfast, as they were gathering the last of their belongings (though most of said ‘belongings’ were things given to them by the elves, all of various nature), Tilda must have picked up on the downheartedness of her siblings. She began to sniffle and make a face, and the major feature of this face was a pouty lower lips and wide, tear rimmed eyes, before going into a full out bawl. And no matter what Bard or her siblings did, nothing would stop her crying, not until the Elf King came and took her from her father’s arms, where she had been practically thrashing in her unhappiness, did she calm. She hiccuped, sniffling profusely, but clung to Thranduil, her still pouty face buried in his kingly robes.

The soft words spoken to her in Elvish worked wonders for the babe was soon asleep, cooing softly, and Thranduil hadn’t any problem handing her over to her older sister without waking her.

As Tauriel led the children out, leading them to the dock where their father’s barge was waiting for them, Thranduil approached Bard, a hand reaching out, fingertips whispering against the bargeman’s cheek.

“I do not wish for you to think that our parting does not affect me,” he began, his voice but a gentle breeze of sound in the silence now left with them in his chambers. “That I do not wish you and yours –” he nodded in the direction the children had departed “- could remain here. If only –“

“I know,” Bard whispered back and the fingers that had ghosted over his cheek were replaced by the hand of the Elf King caressing his cheek, and Bard, for all he felt in this parting, could not help but winch at the sadness in those ageless eyes. “We can return, by your leave, if you wish, my king.”

Thranduil’s smile was a small one, but hopeful. “I would like that. You have my permission to visit whenever you desire.”

Bard returned the smile, and it grew as soft lips descended upon his own. It was a soft kiss, certainly chaste compared to others they had shared, but he knew the reasoning for that. Anything else would have awoken what was barely asleep in the first place, and drawn this parting out longer than it needed to be.

“My thoughts will be of you and my heart will be with yours while we are apart,” Thranduil whispered. “Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham.”

“I’ll miss you, also.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody!!!!
> 
> Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham -- My heart will weep until I see thee again.
> 
> There were two spellings for this phrase. I choose that one, of course!


End file.
